#talking about certain things makes merls uncomfortable

[coneygoil]

Walking Wounded

Caryl AU. The waitress at a diner Daryl decides to start frequenting catches his eye, but things are complicated. Now, Daryl is the only thing standing between her and her abusive husband.

Writer’s note: So, this is my first TWD fic. I actually wasn’t planning on writing any, but a dream I woke up from the other day inspired me and I just had to get it out in words! This will be a multi-chapters fic. More to come later :) btw, I don’t like using curse words, so there’s not a whole lot in here. 

He began frequenting the diner a couple months ago. Daryl and his brother needed a quick bite to eat after a long day of hunting and roughing it like wildmen in the woods, and there was jack squat to eat at their trailer. The diner was rather empty with only a couple other hungry patrons sipping coffee and minding their own business.

Daryl hadn’t thought much of the waitress that served them. She was polite and a bit skittish, and strangely had a nearly shaved head. But, that was really the only thing that stood out. By the time they’d driven off in Daryl’s rickety old pick-up truck, he’d put the waitress out of his mind.

Merle seemed to take a liking to the food at that particular diner. “Taste like real food,” he’d said, then colorfully compared other diner foods to a pile of dog poop.

The next weekend, they visited the little diner and once again, the same woman waited on them. It was this second trip to the diner that the polite waitress with the buzzed head caught his interest. He paid attention to her. He chatted with her when Merle left to take a piss. Her eyes were kind and looked at him like he wasn’t a dirty redneck like other people perceived him to be. Her eyes were the prettiest blue he’d ever seen.

The third time Daryl visited the diner, he was alone. Merle was gone. He wasn’t sure where his brother was, but it didn’t matter. He’d be back. And if he didn’t come back, Daryl could take a few guesses where he was – either in jail, holed up somewhere on a bender, or dead.

So, Daryl was there alone.

He made sure to sit at the same table they were in last time in hopes the waitress with the kind eyes and buzzed head would serve him. He felt warm and a little foolish at the thought. He wasn’t a damn schoolboy hoping his crush would notice him, but that’s exactly what he felt like when he slipped into the booth. The waitress arrived before he barely settled down.

“Where’s your brother?” she’d asked after a few lines of greeting.

Daryl gestured out the window as if that’d give an explanation. “He’s out with some friends,” he tall-taled, because he had no clue where his brother was, and he wasn’t about to give the ugly details of truth of where he could be.

The first two visits Daryl hadn’t caught the waitress’s name and she didn’t wear a nametag to make it obvious. “I’m Daryl, by the way.”

Her eyes sparkled when she smiled at him. “Nice to meet you again, Daryl. I’m Carol.”

It was probably the second, maybe third, time he’d heard her name, but now he would never forget it.

Trips to the diner became Daryl’s new habit. He made sure to visit during Carol’s shifts and sat in the same booth every time he could. He was pleased on one of his visits, as soon as he walked in the door, Carol greeted him from behind the counter with the biggest smile he’d been graced with from her so far. She teased him about how much he enjoyed the coffee because that had to be the only reason he would frequent so often. The dark liquid that filled his cup was okay (at least better than the swill Merle fixed at home), but Daryl wouldn’t dare offer the real reason. They chatted longer if Carol had the time to spare. She seemed genuinely interested in his life. Daryl kept the details vague. There were many specifics a gentle lady like her didn’t need to know – most likely because it would horrify her, especially anything concerning his brother.

Merle didn’t visited the diner with him again, save for one more time when he was somewhat clean and presentable. Daryl didn’t enjoy the trip since Merle did most of the talking and called Carol names that Daryl thought she was above. It burned him up inside. Carol didn’t seem too bothered though, but she was more willing to hang around their table when Merle would step out.

It was on Daryl’s 9th trip to the diner that he spotted a bruise. Carol’s uniform sleeve didn’t cover all of it. His eyes lingered on the half-covered purple handprint peeking from the hem of her sleeve. A grim feeling crept up his spine and his heart pummeled his ribcage. He knew a bruise like that didn’t come from an accident. He’d seen it too often as a kid to know. Someone put it there on purpose. Daryl’s stomach tightened at the thought of how many more bruises were hidden on her.

He didn’t know if Carol was married. She didn’t wear a wedding band and she never talked much about her personal life. Until one day, she did.

It wasn’t much. Just a mention of her husband. A husband who was at home watching their young daughter. Her throat seemed to choke up as she spoke the words. A flash of fear crossed her face that wasn’t missed by Daryl. It was like just the reminder that her daughter was in the presence of her husband concerned her greatly. She claimed she had to get a job a few months ago to earn her keep because her husband wasn’t going to have her sit at home all day slumming around while he hauled butt to provide for them. She hadn’t said it in such a way, but Daryl could read between the lines.

The next diner trip, the cheer in Carol’s smile was there, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes like it usually did. Daryl knew now that she was married, but that didn’t stop him from chatting with her and feeling the same as he had before. Carol was still the kindest person he’d ever met in his sorry excuse for a life and he couldn’t help thinking on how pretty those blue eyes of hers were. He kept coming because seeing him put a smile on her face. Talking to him gave her a bit of relief. He wanted to give her at least that much.

One evening as Daryl stepped into the diner, he stopped dead in his tracks. His regular table was tucked away in the left-hand corner, and for the first time since he started coming, it was taken. A little girl occupied the booth. Her shoulder-length blonde hair hung against her face as she colored. A half-filled glass of milk sat in front of her. He couldn’t tell exactly how old she was since he wasn’t around children hardly any. Maybe she was 4 or 5? She resembled someone. Someone he’d become familiar with over the last several weeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carol’s voice nearly made him jump. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as the heat he felt upon it. “I’ll move her to another table.” Carol had taken note that it was his usual spot, just as she’d memorized his usual order.

“Sophia,” she called to the little girl, and as soon as the girl’s eyes flicked up, Daryl knew for certain whose daughter she was. “Come on, honey. A customer needs that table.”

The little girl was about to scoot out without so much as a sigh. Daryl couldn’t do that to her. “She can stay. No need for her to get up. There’re plenty other empty tables around here.”

Carol shook her head, an apology she didn’t need to give written on her face. “I don’t want her to be a bother.”

“She’s not.”

Daryl slid in the booth located right before his usual table. He probably should have chosen the other side of the table, because he had a clear view of the little girl. She glanced at his curiously then got back to work on the pig she was currently coloring purple.

“Is this your--?” Daryl felt awkward finishing the question. He’d only just learned about Carol’s daughter.

Carol smiled warmly as she peered over at the top of the little blonde head. “My daughter. Sophia.” The name was spoken with such love and reverence. “She had to come to work with me tonight.”

“Your husband had to work or something?”

It was then that Daryl caught the shiner on Carol’s cheek that she had been trying to keep turned. He could put the rest of the pieces together. Carol shook her head, sadly. “He just couldn’t tonight. But, it’s okay. My daughter is such a quiet child. She minds well. My manager didn’t have a problem with me bringing her in this once.”

Daryl insides burned. He could guess exactly why Carol’s daughter minded so well. She’d probably be punished if she so much as sneezed. Daryl shifted uncomfortably at a long ago memory he tamped down immediately.

“The usual?” Carol asked, dragging Daryl out of his stewing.

“Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”

Daryl peered out the window, trying not to pay much attention to the little girl. He could see out of the corner of his eye that she was stealing glances of him every now and then. He couldn’t quite read her expression not looking at her straight on, but from what he could tell, she seemed wary of him.

Carol arrived with his coffee and he thanked her wholeheartedly, as if she’d brought him the greatest gift he’d ever received. Carol looked pleasantly surprised by his outpouring of graciousness. She chatted with him for a few moments before moving on. Sophia had drunk the rest of her milk. Her mother brought a refill as soon as she finished. The little girl quietly showed her the purple pig. Carol fawned over how beautiful the picture was.

After Carol walked away, Daryl craned his neck to get a better view of the coloring. “Never seen a purple pig before,” he teased, keeping his voice light. “Think there’s one out there that just hadn’t been found yet?”

The little girl looked like she wanted to bolt. He’d never actually talked to a child before, at least one this young. He guessed it was natural for kids to be shy of strangers, but Sophia seemed downright petrified.

“It’s okay,” Daryl assured, “I promise, I don’t bite.”

Carol approached, seeing the exchange. “It’s okay, Sophia.” She brushed her daughter’s hair back, soothingly. “Daryl is a friend.”

A flutter hit Daryl square in the chest. She‘d called him a friend. He tapped down the nice feeling. He had no business feeling that way. Everything surrounding Carol was complicated, from what he gathered. Still, he would accept being her friend if she wanted him to be.

Tires suddenly grounded into the parking lot. Daryl snapped his head to find a Jeep Cherokee coming in hot. It slammed on its breaks in the second row of parking spots. An average-height, slightly heavy-set man stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

The gasp that escaped Carol’s throat was not lost to Daryl. He snapped his attention back to her. His blood ran cold at the sight of her pale, stricken face. The man was stomping toward the diner like a giant prepared to knock the head clean off something.

“Sophia, honey,” the tremble in her voice made Daryl’s jaw clinch. “Stay right here while I go talk to Daddy.”

Carol rushed out the door, intercepting her husband before he could make it across the parking lot. Daryl stole one glance at Sophia, the poor girl sinking into the booth, looking just about as terrified as her mother.

His heart pounded. He couldn’t sit around while Carol was out there confronting the man who laid his hands violently upon her. Daryl made his way right outside the doors of the diner, hoping to act inconspicuous. He lit up a cigarette. Smoking being his excuse for being outside and not the overwhelming need to stick close to the woman that was confronting the man that abused her body.

“What the hell you thinkin’?” the man snarled, and he was exactly how Daryl imagined he would sound.  

“What’s wrong, Ed?” Carol sounded exactly how he imagined she would in the presence of her husband.

“What the hell were you thinkin’!?” Daryl’s back bristled at his increased aggressive tone. He took a drag of his cigarette, pretending to be interested in the activities at the gas station next door. “Gonna lose this damn job and your sorry ass wages because of our snivelin’ ankle-biter! Leave the stinkin’ brat at home!”

Carol averted her eyes to the ground, her body seeming to prepare itself for the repercussions. “You seemed like you wanted to be alone tonight. I wanted to give you that time by yourself.”

“I can handle our brat, Carol! I’ll lock her in her room if I have to! Wouldn’t be the first time I locked her in there!” Her husband – Ed – pushed Carol out of the way, causing her to stumble. “I’m taking her home.”

“Please, Ed. She’s just a little girl. Please don’t lock her away.” Carol clutched at his arm, pleading desperately. “She’s not harming anything being here.”

“Get off!” In that split second – in that one wrong move by Ed -- Daryl saw red. His body moved before his brain had time to catch up to what he was doing.

Ed snatched her right arm, twisting it in a direction that it definitely wasn’t made for. Carol barely cried out. She clinched her teeth as if trained to hold back the noise. He let go of her arm, but reared back and slapped her across the face. Ed never got any further in his blatant display of abuse.

Daryl had thrown punches before. More times than he could remember to count. Never had he punched a person with such force that they stumbled backwards and fell flat on the ground. The impact of slamming his fist into Ed’s jaw reverberated painfully up Daryl’s arm, but he welcomed the pain. Made him feel alive, especially when it was pain taken for a good cause.

A string of gargled expletives spewed from Ed’s mouth. He wiped at his bloody mouth with the back of his wrist.

Shaking off the pain in his arm, Daryl turned immediately to Carol. Tears streamed pitifully down her cheeks. She cradled her injured arm. There was no hesitation in Daryl’s mind that he had to get her and her daughter out of there. He touched Carol’s shoulder with a stark contrast of gentleness than he just used on Ed. His heart clinched when she flinched away.

“Carol, look at me,” Daryl coaxed, softly. He followed her face with his. Her eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown out. He hoped she registered what he was about to say. “Go get Sophia and your things. We’re leaving.”

“The hell she’s leaving with you!” growled out Ed as he rolled onto his side in an attempt to push his sorry rear end off the concrete.

“The hell she’s going anywhere with the likes of you!” Daryl flung back with a fair amount of venom. He resisted the strong urge to kick him in the side. “Only a damn, good-for-nuthin’ coward beats his woman!”

Daryl quickly glanced behind him, not wanting to take his sights off the bastard rolling around pathetically on the ground. He found Carol gone. She returned in record time, clutching Sophia against her in the tightest protective hold. Daryl drug his eyes off Ed. He led Carol to his pick-up truck, opening the passenger side door for her. He hopped in the driver side and revved up the engine. In the door rearview mirror, he could see Ed back on his feet, storming toward them and yelling his promises to kill them all.

“Hold on,” Daryl barely warned before peeling out of the parking lot. He waited for his adrenaline to lower before checking on her. “You okay?”

Carol jumped at his voice like she forgot he was there. Her crying had calmed, but her breathing remained ragged. She turned her head slightly toward him and Daryl caught the tear streaks staining her cheeks. She still clutched Sophia to her as if her daughter was her only lifeline. Daryl could hear sniffles coming from Carol’s shoulder where the little girl hid her face.

“How’s your arm?” he pressed on. “Anything dislocated? Broken?”

Carol blinked a few times before regaining her senses. She shook her head. “No. Just hurts.”

“Are you sure?”

Carol nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve had a dislocated shoulder before. I know what it feels like.”

The confession sadly didn’t surpriseDaryl, but it fueled the anger toward the man he’d had the pleasure of knocking flat on his ass.

“Is she okay?”

Carol nuzzled her nose comfortingly in Sophia’s hair. She hugged her daughter even tighter. “I think so.”

A long beat filled the cab of the truck. The buildings and streetlights blurred by. Daryl’s body still tingled with adrenaline, but his mind was calming.

“Where are we going?” Carol’s voice remained low and breathy.

Daryl gripped the steering wheel, the worn leather squeaking under his grip. “Some place safe.”

#caryl #twd: caryl #twd fanfiction #carol x daryl #walking wounded

[other-fictive-things]

Domesticated: Two

Merlin tried not to listen to Eggsy telling Roxy about his part in getting Merlin to talk to you. He’d like to strangle the little shit. But then, that was nothing new. He had a talent for finding his last nerve and tap dancing on it. Then exploiting his soft spot for him about three seconds before Merlin really did throttle him. Sometimes, the older man wondered if that’s what it were like to be a parent.

If it was, he wasn’t sure he were up to the task. If it was, he felt like a creepy old man trying to date someone near Eggsy’s age. But, looking at the text you sent him. An innocuous little picture of you pouting at the camera with glitter on your lips, dressed for a night out with friends, he knew he couldn’t back out now. Even dressed for a night at a Drag show, you looked like exactly his shot of whiskey. Warmth spread through his belly and radiated out to the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

It had been a long time since anyone had made him feel that way. So long in fact that he thought himself immune. Happily, he though saving the picture so it would come up when you called, he wasn’t.

He put his phone back in his breast pocket and tried not to let his thoughts drift towards you, but unbidden he’d seen the first moment he saw you.

You’d blown into the coffee shop looking harried and frankly more than a little disheveled. Hair falling in your eyes, not a product of elegant disarray but a long day and total hairpin failure. Your clothes were rumpled and you looked... somehow... beautiful. Out of place in the coffee shop full of idle socialites and white-collar workers. But somehow, no one seemed to notice. Your manners were neat at least. Pretty soft words. Well-spoken. And only slightly Americanized. Some flavor of dual citizenship probably. You’d taken your coffee and found a small table, careful to be out of the way. Seeking some solace, he assumed. Some comfort after a long day. His assumption was proven correct when you started to cry. Not sobbing hysterically, but a few quiet tears sliding down your cheeks. Hastily wiped away as you took a deep breath and looked towards the ceiling for a second, willing yourself not to make a scene. He’d felt something twist in his chest unpleasantly. It had hurt in ways seeing a woman cry didn’t typically affect him. He was used to debutante sulks and snits. Not quiet pain that had momentarily become too much to bear.  It affected him. He’d started coming back, wanting to see you again. Hoping this was your usual shop. He’d learned to track your days through your coffee order. Good days were just espresso. Dark and strong. A quick pick up. Long days were chai lattes with extra espresso. Bad days were indulgent fluff and a pastry... There had been a lot of bad days. Days that made him want to scoop you up and cradle you against his chest and make it better. Days that had made him want to find the source of the pain and make sure it couldn’t hurt you again. At least he would if it wasn’t your job doing it.

Eggsy had been correct when he had said that he bet Merlin already knew things about you. He’d been too jaded to immediately want to charge to your rescue. There were organizations that would quite literally kill to get hold of him and the things he knew. Not to mention what he could do. It hadn’t taken him long to find you. Name and all. Where you studied, what you did, and a set of sealed court documents that transferred custody of you to an older brother. After his cursory search, which was still invasive enough he felt guilty after, he’d not gone further. Most organizations, for all their cleverness, weren't this clever. There was a family tree he could trace several generations back on both sides, for God’s sake. You were real, he knew. But after that he just had to work up the guts to talk to you.

Several failed relationships lay in his past. Pretty women of proper parentage to appease his parents. Debutantes and Socialites. Heiresses. People with all the proper breeding. Women whose greatest ambition was to marry a rich man and be taken care of the way their parents had taken care of them. He’d sworn off any real relationship after he’d almost been married... That little misadventure had left him with scars that had made him drown himself in work just to numb the ache. He knew that the dating scene had probably changed a lot since his day. Women in this day and age were a lot more... aggressive than he was typically used too. Even the women his mother shoved at him were hardly polished. Though he supposed, at his age it was going to be tricky for her to find anyone to fling at him. Still. You were... different. Not terribly polished but there was an air of quiet confidence. Of knowing. He liked that.

“You ain’t going out with your girl?” Eggsy asked teasing.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “She had prior plans for this evening.”

“Aww,” Roxy grinned, “did you not want to go clubbing?”

“Indeed not,” Merlin snorted, “But her Snapchat has been entertaining.”

Roxy was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, “You got Snapchat?”

The older man sighed, “I’ve had Snapchat. Someone has to monitor the shite you all get up to on social media.”

Eggsy paled just a little and Merlin smirked internally. He didn’t really monitor all that closely but Eggsy didn’t need to know that. Not right now.

____________

It wasn’t difficult to find the address you’d provided. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood but it wasn’t posh either. At least he didn’t have to worry about that. He’d hate to be scared to send you home at night, even if he was reasonably certain you could take care of yourself.

Still, as he stood waiting for you to buzz him in, he had a sense of unease. It felt... odd. Still. When the door released to let him in the feeling vanished. It evaporated like water on a hot pan and a feeling, not unlike nerves, rushed in in its wake. He felt both overdressed and underdressed. It was a bright Saturday afternoon and he wasn’t even sure what he was going to be doing. All he knew was that he was excited and mildly terrified to be doing it.

And then he couldn’t breathe. You were standing in the doorway of your flat, smiling up at him. “You found me,” you tell him, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek. Just another whisper of a kiss. “You gave me the right address,” he chuckles.

You step back and let him pass by you to get in and he takes a second to look around. “It’s not terribly grand, but then I’d hardly ever here for longer than it takes to sleep and change clothes,” you say, sounding more amused than offended at his assessment of the second-hand furniture and comfortable clutter of books and sundry nonsense.

Merlin smiles a little and takes the hanger you’re holding for his coat. He’d certainly seen worse, though his mother would be perfectly horrified at the mismatched, squashy chair and couch. “You’ve got an eye for antiques,” he observed, noting the typewriter on the desk. He’s willing to bet it’s from at least 1920. One designed for ace reporters and war office clerks. You smile a little, “My brother found it for me somewhere. An estate sale or something,” you answer, “A 16th birthday present.” There’s a note of something in your voice. A little fond and a little sad. But Merlin doesn’t press. He doesn’t like the hint of sadness. And he doesn’t want to keep delving into things that make it pop out. Not when there are other more tantalizing things to get out of you; like soft moans and cries of his name.

You smile up at him and he desperately wants to kiss the end of your nose. You look a little sleep-deprived after a late night but still lovely. “So,” he says smiling back, savoring the warmth in his chest. “What’d you have in mind today, sweetheart?”

“Well. I’m sure you watched all the chaos from last night on snap chat,” you tell him stretching lazily, “So I thought I’d make you a nice dinner and we could just... relax a little bit. I don’t know about for you, but work was just a nightmare.”

“Ah, so you showed me how funny you are and now you’re trying to win my heart by filling my stomach,” he teases, laughing, “I’ll take it, even if my work week wasn’t... too terrible.”

“I might be showing off a little,” you admitted, “I have a handful of talents but I’m really good at them.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked quirking an eyebrow.

You nod and start carefully setting out the things you needed to make the meal you wanted to cook, “Do you want something to drink? I have tea, I have a couple bottles of wine, water, decent whiskey, might have a soda and some hot chocolate...”

Merlin could place your upbringing a little better then. You’d not had money. You wanted your guests comfortable but you weren’t terribly bothered about putting your ability to make them comfortable on display. Not to mention you were showing him affection with a home-cooked meal. Not that he minded. He’d done fancy dates. It was uncomfortable. He felt irresistibly like a specimen under glass on those dates, but this was nice.

“Tea is fine, love,” he says, helping himself to a seat to watch you in the kitchen.

You nod and start the kettle, humming to yourself.

“So,” Merlin asked, “What do you do, exactly?”

“I’m a Program Director for a Children’s mental health facility,” you tell him, “I do... a lot of things.”

“Impressive,” he said whistling, “And what brought you there?”

“The grace of God, poor life choices,” you pause and consider the mug in your hand, “Incredibly bad luck, possibly. Take your pick.”

Merlin snorts, “Probably some combination of the three,” he says, taking the mug from your hand when you offer it.

“Probably,” you agree, stretching.

“What about you,” you ask, “how did you become a tailor?”

“Fell into the job really,” he said smiling, “I knew the right people.”

You nod, “Can you do me a favor?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“What’s that, hen?” he asks, taking a sip of tea.

“Please stop lying to me about your job,” you ask, “If you’re actually a Tailor I’m somehow in line for a monarchy.”

Merlin stops for a moment and leans forward to assess you, “What do you think I do?” he asks

You smile a little, “Something military. Or Military adjacent,” you tell him. Carefully. Careful not to pry too deep or press too hard. Giving him a little bit of wiggle room.

“And how, hen, did you come to that conclusion?”

“My brother’s a Marine,” you tell him, “I spent most of my life writing him letters out in the desert. At least until he got discharged and came home... After that he ran a bar. I know military types when I see them... and Tailors don’t typically wind up with the callouses you get from combat. Thick ones too.”

Merlin smiles a little, “And If I have to kill you for catching me out?”

“Neat,” you tell him, “No more student loans!”

That makes him grin, “I feel like that’s fair.”

You take a sip from your own mug of tea and smile, “You don't have to tell me anything,” you tell him softly, “just please don’t lie to me.”

Merlin sobered, nodding, ‘I promise, love,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you got to choose your cover story... and it’s not your fault I spent my life around military types. I know what hands that fire guns look like... and even if your family does probably have a fancy country estate and you go hunting, that doesn’t quite make sense.”

“Alright, Sherlock.”

You smile and turn away, refocusing on making dinner, satisfied now that that had been cleared up.

Merlin very kindly set the table for you while you fussed with details, adjusting timy things here and there to make sure you had everything like you wanted it before carrying dishes to the table while he poured glasses of wine. “This looks incredible,” he said, genuinely impressed.

“I watch a lot of cooking shows when I can’t sleep,” you explain modestly.

He chuckled and pulled out you chair before kissing your cheek affectionately, “You can cook for me anytime you like, love.”

“Try it first before you say that,” you caution.

Merlin takes his own seat once he’s sure you’re settled and tuts softly, “I watched you cook it,” he reminded, “It looked amazing an hour ago.” You glow quietly at the praise and Merlin smiles a little. You’re pretty. No, pretty is an understatement, you’re beautiful. It’s nice, knowing that you’re happy he’s happy. He’d like to skip dinner and pull you over to the couch so he can see if he can get you to glow a little brighter. But, he’s got time. Plenty of time. Still, as he tucks into his dinner, he makes a soft appreciative noise, “This is incredible,” he groans, “Amazing.”

Your cheeks heat and you take a small nibble, “It’s alright,” you tell him, “It was a new recipe, sorry I didn’t have time to work out the kinks.”

“Oh well,” he teases, “That changes everything. I demand you do it again.”

You smile a little and take a sip from your glass of wine as Merlin raises his in quiet toast, “Really, love,” he hums, “It’s lovely. Thank you. I’ve never really got the hang of cooking for my self.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” you tell him, “I really don’t like ramen.”

Merlin laughs and you decide you really do need to do this again sometime. He was sweet. And funny. And a little mysterious. He ticked a lot of your boxes. Not that you had many. Or very much experience. Still. You had always had a thing for older men. Men your own age were just fucking exhausting. Everything was a goddamn crisis. You dealt with Crises all day. Hospital visits and court cases. Kids broken. Staff about to quit. When you came home you wanted to just be. When you went out you wanted to have fun and not have to worry about soothing a fragile masculine ego. Sitting here, with Hamish, it was nice. You could just be. Chat about Wine. Talk about books. It was comfortable, and he seemed like he was enjoying dinner which was nice. You’d inherited that little tic from your mom. The compulsive need to feed people and have them be happy. It was nice, having him appreciate things.

“It’s still early, do you want to watch a movie?” you ask, taking plates to the kitchen and scarping things into the trash.

“I haven’t seen a movie in ages,” he said, moving to help you, feeling guilty after having let you do all the cooking. He nudged you out of the way gently and took up the washing.

“Got a favorite?” you ask, picking up a tea towel.

“I’m fond of documentaries,” he mused.

“Murder documentaries?” you ask.

“Yes,” he murmured, cheeks coloring.

“Perfect. I have like... all of them I can get to. Have you seen the Ted Bundy ones on Netflix?”

And the man let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

#Kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman x reader #merlin x reader #fluff #first date #domestic fluff

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 27)

I think you guys might really like this one ;)

The majority vote for my edit for the new banner was the 3rd one so here it is. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I picked a face claim and made some edits, go see my post before this one if you wanna.

------------------------

Daryl was sulking in his tent. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't bring himself to show his face. He had lashed out at her, said sorry, then acted like a jealous bastard and lashed out again. He hadn't seen her in the hours since. She hadn't made any move to go to him like she usually would and talk to him. It was dinner time now and Daryl didn't have any desire to go out there. She had called him out, right to his face. Asking if he was jealous. Did she fucking know? It was making him want to rip his damn skin off and he couldn't get out of his head. He could hear the faint murmur of conversation as the group sat around the fire eating. The paranoia kicked in then. What if they convinced her she was better off without him and Merle? He knew they had both been assholes in the group and he doubted it would take much convincing for her to not want anything to do with them. Not after his outburst earlier. What if they were telling her all the shit they had done since they got here? Got in her head? The more he sat there the more paranoid and angry he got.

He opened the tent and got out, stomping over to the fire. His steps slowed though when he saw the group. Charlene was sat next to Merle, the pair having a quiet conversation and not bothering with anyone else. Relief flooded him and seeped into his bones. He didn't know why he was acting like this. Merle caught his eye and gestured with his head to come over. And despite the desperate need to flee, his feet carried him over and he sat on the other side of Charlene. She didn't even look at him and he felt the pit on his stomach growing rapidly. She fucking hated him now, he just knew it. He could hardly blame her. She had been nothing but nice to him since before all this and all he ever did was treat her like shit because he couldn't get his shit together. Merle passed him some rabbit meat and he ate it, keeping his head lowered as he just brooded and wondered why he couldn't do a thing right.

“Shane told me Daryl said you two are together, how did you meet?” Lori piped up with a warm smile. Daryl felt the air leave his lungs as his eyes snapped up. Everyone became quiet like they were eager to know the answer. They probably were since they liked to gossip about bullshit. He swallowed thickly, the meat feeling like it was expanding in his throat as he tried to push it down and he felt Merle’s eyes on him.

“I used to work at a diner. He came in on his lunch break one day and it was love at first sight,” Charlene said, a smile on her face that Daryl knew was fake. He blinked slowly, his brain seeming to be in slow motion as he was trying to process it. She was going along with it. But he had no doubt she would kick his ass later for it. He was just grateful she hadn’t called him out in front of everyone.

“Aw, that's so romantic,” Amy piped up with a wide grin.

“How long have you been together?” Andrea asked as she looked at them both. Daryl had no idea why people were so interested in his personal life, even if it was a fake one. Like people were so interested in how the asshole hunter of the group had a girl he cared about.

Charlene turned to look at him then, giving him an amused look as she quirked a brow and he raked his teeth over his lower lip. The little shit was making him answer and he was a little confused why she didn't look mad, she looked like she found it funny.

“About two years,” he shrugged, trying to act casual as he lied through his teeth.

“You always do this, two and a half years,” Charlene huffed, glaring at him as she pretended to be mad at him. Merle snorted next to her and Daryl didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the situation he found himself in. The girl seemed to be having way too much fun watching him squirm.

“I told ya I don't count the first half a year since ya were sleepin’ around,” he said, fighting a smirk as she squinted at him.

“Well maybe if you satisfied my needs I wouldn't have had to sleep with other people,” she retorted, quirking a brow. The group was watching amused, unaware that all of it was bullshit and Merle was grinning as he ate his food. Daryl felt his cheeks flush as he glared at her and she gave him a toothy grin.

“Aw don't be mad, you’re still my big snuggly bear,” Charlene grinned leaning over and kissing his cheek. It felt like his face fucking exploded with tingles and he tried so hard to ignore the feelings it was giving him from a simple fake kiss.

“Snuggly bear?” Dale asked amused, glancing to Daryl. He groaned inwardly and lowered his head. Every fucker here was smirking at him and he wanted the ground to open up and eat him alive. Where's a damn biter when ya need one? He should have stayed in his damn tent.

“Mhm, he loves to snuggle, don't you baby?” she asked with a smirk. He pursed his lips a little, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“Sure do, wild cat,” he said dryly.

“Do we even want to know that one?” Andrea asked with a snort.

“Prolly not, the shit she likes me to do to her in bed…” he smirked, watching as Charlene’s jaw dropped and her cheeks flushed, glaring at him. Merle laughed and choked on his food, smacking himself in the chest as he tried to calm himself.

“Okay! That's enough of this conversation!” Lori chuckled, standing up and ushering Carl away. Daryl just raised a brow at Charlene and she squinted.

He got up since he had eaten his food and went back to the tent. After Charlene bid Merle goodnight she unzipped it and got inside.

“Oh look, it's my snuggly bear,” she snorted, shaking her head as she sat down and tugged off her boots.

“Bet ya real proud of yaself with that one, makin’ the group think I’m a fuckin' laughin’ stock,” he huffed, glaring at her from where he was sat.

“You're the one that said we were together,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, to make Shane keep his eyes off ya,” he scoffed as he got his sleeping bag ready. Charlene looked to him quizzically.

“What if I wanted his eyes on me?” she questioned, looking at him intently. Daryl clenched his jaw as his eyes snapped up to hers. The thought alone made him feel murderous and it felt like his blood was molten lava running through his veins. Charlene just watched him carefully. Testing the waters almost to see his reaction. If she didn't know any better she would say he was jealous, and that just confused her.

“Ya want that prick?” he scoffed bitterly, glaring daggers at her.

“Not really. Had my eye on someone else for a while now but I’m pretty sure he's not interested,” she muttered. She took her jacket off, feeling Daryl's eyes on her the whole time as she moved over to him. She presumed they were sharing the sleeping bag since they always seemed to sleep next to one another.

Daryl eyed her warily, the fuck had that meant? For a while? The only people she had been with was him and his brother and he had been certain she didn’t like Merle that way with how she acted around him. Charlene glanced at him, noticing his weird look as he didn't say a word. She heaved a sigh, shaking her head. This was useless, she would never get an answer like this out of him and she was sick of tiptoeing around shit. When she got lost, her biggest regret was always not telling him how she felt.

“For fuck sake Daryl it’s you!” she huffed, her cheeks flushing bright red at finally saying it out loud. After all these years of admiring him, trying to talk to him, she had finally told him she liked him. She couldn't even look at him, waiting for him to laugh or something as she lay down facing away from him. Daryl sat there staring at her. Did I just hear right? He must have heard wrong, it wasn't possible.

“I...uh...ya had…” Daryl couldn’t even form a fucking sentence, his brain turning into mush as her words swirled around his brain on repeat.

She turned over, blinking those pretty green eyes at him as he opened and closed his mouth like a fucking fish.

“I don't expect you to say anything and if it made you awkward I'm sorry. But there it is. I've liked you for fucking years Daryl. I’m not stupid enough to think you'd ever want a girl like me, but I needed to get it off my chest,” she admitted, toying with her hands as her cheeks stayed flaming red. Daryl looked more than confused as he wiped a hand over his face.

“So...just to be clear...ya like me but ya think I ain't ever like ya back?” he asked slowly, sounding so bewildered. She rolled her eyes and sat up to look at him better. This was ridiculous. She shouldn't have said anything, now things would be weird between them. She shouldn’t have opened her big fucking mouth.

“I know you don't Daryl. And it's fine. I made my peace with it a long time ago that you wouldn't like me back that way,” she muttered, glancing up at him through her lashes. She was right in front of him and he swallowed thickly. He didn't really know what the fuck was going on. He must have woken up in some alternate reality or some shit for her to be saying she liked him that way. And he had no idea why she thought he wouldn't like her back. He was willing his mouth to move, to fucking say something. To tell her how he had liked her for years, how he would go to see her at work just so he could see her smile. But nothing was coming out. His brain and his mouth had disconnected and he couldn't make his mouth work.

Charlene frowned, looking down with a sigh. She knew she had ruined whatever friendship they had built between them. He hadn't said a word and he looked flustered and uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ll just...I’ll go stay in Merle tent,” she mumbled embarrassed, going to get up.

“What? No! I just…” he clenched his jaw, getting overwhelmingly angry at himself. Why was it so hard to say it out loud? That he liked her back? She watched him warily, unaware of the tense battle in his head. His eyes met hers and she swallowed thickly at the look he gave her, it made her feel so small under his gaze.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, leaning forward and capturing her lips with his. It caught her off guard and she squeaked a little, tensing at the suddenness of it. He felt his heart drop at her reaction and he went to move away. But she grabbed the back of his neck, stilling him so he couldn't pull away. He felt her kiss him back then and his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He was finally fucking kissing her, finally tasting those sweet full lips. She deepened the kiss a little and he felt a growl rumble low in his throat. His tongue ran along her lower lip, wanting more of her, wanting every damn inch of her fucking mouth. He was pleased when she complied, moving closer to him as he tangled his tongue with hers.

He pulled her onto his lap, much like he had done earlier and she wound her arms around his neck. He just got lost in her, kissing her breathless until he needed to come up for air. His chest was heaving when he pulled away, looking up at her hesitantly like he expected a smack. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly swollen from his kisses and it was a look that sent a surge of primal satisfaction through his body.

“Well...that was unexpected,” she snorted, looking down bashfully. His lips turned up into a shy smile, now the moment had gone he felt incredibly shy and out of place. She nibbled on her lower lip, making no move to get off his lap and his hands were splayed on her back. She was looking at him with a slightly hooded gaze and he never thought in a million years she would look at him like that. She leant down slightly, her lips ghosting his. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, making his breathing hitch a little. He nudged her nose with his and a small smile graced her lips. He closed the distance between them, already needing another taste of her as he claimed her mouth.

It felt surreal. How many times had he thought about doing this? Too many to count. And each time he would be reminded it would never happen. Yet here he was. The pretty green-eyed girl in his lap making out with him. He couldn't get enough of her as he pulled her closer, greedily kissing her like he needed it to breathe. He pulled away again just for the sheer need to breathe and she rested her forehead on his, closing her eyes.

“So...this means you like me back right?” she asked with a wry grin. He snorted, looking up at her.

“I don't know, maybe ya should kiss me again, help me make my mind up,” he smirked, his southern drawl seeming to be thicker, his voice deeper. It sent a thrill right through her as she looked down at him. She gave him a mischievous grin as she leant down, nipping his lower lip and tugging on it a little. A low groan left his lips as he closed his eyes. Damn girl would be the death of him teasing him like that. He gripped the back of her neck firmly, crashing his lips to hers in a desperate kiss.

If it was anyone else, he would have had their clothes off and be balls deep inside of them with how horny he was, but he wanted to take things slightly slow with her. He didn't want to rush it. They had only just found out they both liked each other after all and that alone made his head spin. He moved away, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit Peaches, we need to stop,” he groaned, looking pained at even having to say those words. She nodded though, she knew he was right. She could have done with a cold shower right about then. She didn't want to go too fast, she didn't think she was quite ready for that yet. She reluctantly moved from his lap as the pair tried to catch their breath. Daryl felt a little awkward now. He didn't know what this really meant. Sure they had kissed but he wasn't sure what the next move was. She smiled shyly at him, laying down, so he decided to follow her lead. He lay on his back and smiled inwardly when she laid her head on his chest. They had slept next to each other a lot, and he had spooned her once or twice without meaning to in his sleep. But now she snuggled into his side willingly, wide awake and knowing what she was doing. His chest felt all weird at the feelings it was giving him. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around what the fuck just happened. His arms came around her, pulling her closer to him as he shut his eyes. He felt like he would wake in the morning and it had all been a dream. There was no way Charlene liked him that way, it was absurd to him.

“Stop thinking too hard,” she mumbled tiredly into his chest. He snorted lightly and glanced down at her, the tips of his ears turning pink that she just seemed to know. He decided she was right though. He could overthink shit tomorrow. Tonight he would just relish in the feeling of the girl in his arms. The feeling of his lips still tingling from their kisses. Everything else could wait until the next day.

-----------------------

Arrrrgh you guys!! You have no idea how eager I was to post this one looool

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Merle Dixon

[the-ipre]

Lup as The Hunger AU?

- Lup sees the way the world is going. Things have reached the point of no return time and time again, and yet people continue pushing. People keep exploiting the world and its people and everyone around them until even the very air is being sucked dry of life, and she knows something has to change. The way her world is going can’t continue, and so she puts her mind to finding a way to fix things, because she is never one to stand idly by, and she never would be. In the end, she figures it out: forest fires are not the end. They prepare the land to regrow, and they provide a chance for new life and for change and they are a second chance, and so she gathers people around her who agree, who want to fix things, and they bring their powers together. She knows that there will be damage, but she doesn’t think that it can be anything that is unfixable. She would never want to destroy worlds, after all; she is trying to save them.

- What she doesn’t know is that some of the people that she works with intend on taking those worlds they touch down on along with them. It will make them stronger, they think, and after a long time being powerless it is easy to give in to that piece of them that thinks what if. Lup just intends on them touching down on other planes, burning out those dangerous growths that come with any world and leaving them to do better, to be better with the fresh start that she has given. It was a tough choice to make at first, but she saw no other option, and the more time she spent with the rest of her group the more certain she was in their goal. She would be able to fix things, and worlds wouldn’t have to be torn apart the way her own was. It certainly doesn’t help that they plan on using the light to enact their goals, and it whispers in her ears to use it.

- Lup’s group gets bigger, and bigger, and they accrue enough magic that they can grow strong enough to burn through the space between realities. Instead of being individuals, they are a blaze, flickering identities roaring across worlds with the stated goal of letting the worlds rebuild and the actual goal of bringing those worlds along with them. If they all come together, after all, they can be strong, and they can find a way to grow together, and if that day never came, well. They were strong anyway, and as they collected the light over and over and lit the tinder of dozens of worlds, the controlled burn became not quite so controlled anymore.

- The day that the Starblaster plans on leaving for its mission, the white clouds in the sky turn gray, the very air filling with smoke. The world is uncomfortably warm, and as people dab at the sweat on their brows someone screams. The two suns seem to grow, flickering and spreading across the sky until all that anyone can see is fire. The Starblaster takes off, bursting through the flames and into the space between planes, and their stolen century begins. Their home world burns, the corruption crumbling away along with the libraries of research, the forests turning into ash as the oceans boil, and somewhere in the deep recesses of the blaze a single consciousness feels that, along the way, something went terribly wrong.

- The world that Lup came from was almost identical to the two-sunned planet, and she had once had a twin brother. He had died, and it never should have happened, it never would have happened if those in charge had gotten their acts together, and he was part of the reason that she started this quest. People were dying and they didn’t need to, they never should have, and she thought she could fix things. Unfortunately, things didn’t go quite as planned. 

- The world that Taako came from was almost identical to a three-sunned planet, and he once had a twin sister. They got separated on the road, torn up by families and strangers and the fact that no one listened to children, and despite his best efforts to find her he never could. He grew sharper, and when a plane of burning white flames descended on his world, he couldn’t exactly bring himself to care about a world that had never cared about him.

- Over the years the six birds ran, and they kept running, and eventually Lucretia gave the tremendous plane of living flame a name: the Blaze. There were plenty of jokes about blazing it, but that didn’t make the thing any less dangerous. Their only hope was to get the light of creation whenever they could, and while they never saw how those planes ended up they knew that they didn’t get consumed. The last remaining members of the IPRE could only hope that those planets would be able to rebuild, to find a way to grow from the ashes that were left in the wake of the Blaze, but they themselves had no choice but to continue their mad dash throughout realities.

- In Tesseralia, Barry Bluejeans is the one chosen by the First Monastery to commune with their enemy. He is a scientist, and so he is interested in learning all that he can about this crackling plane of flame, and over the year he learns to calm all of those running thoughts in his head and simply be. When he ends up calling the Blaze and the line gets picked up, he doesn’t honestly know what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t a confused elven woman in the middle of a field. When he looks around he can see that the ground is ashy, but there are countless sprouts coming up from the dirt, growing and unfurling their leaves even as he watches. The elf tries to speak, coughs, and then clears her throat. “Hey, uh what the fuck?” 

- Barry doesn’t know what to do with that, but he introduces himself, explains that her and the rest of her…associates have been destroying planes, and if they could stop that would be greatly appreciated. He stumbles over his words despite practicing them, but there’s a certain horror growing on the elf’s face as she listens nonetheless. She tells him that her name is Lup, and that she never meant for any of this to happen, and that aren’t there any planes that she’s helped. She doesn’t tell him this, but she hopes against hope that this has done something good, and fears more than anything else that she has gone past the point of no return. At the end of their meeting she doesn’t kill him, and he comes back to himself in Tesseralia, with some interesting things to share with the rest of the IPRE.

- Years pass, and more planes are consumed or burned, and Barry keeps talking to Lup. They don’t fall in love, not yet, but they get to know each other, and Barry learns how the Blaze came to be, and Lup learns what the IPRE are doing, and the first time Barry talks about his friends Lup goes deathly silent. Taako? She asks, because surely she heard that name wrong, but when Barry describes him, there’s a sickening tug in her chest: this group she created, this burn started in the name of her brother that was meant to make things right, is now set on destroying him. She and Barry keep talking, and even though the hivemind of the Blaze uses those talks to find better ways to hunt the Starblaster and her crew, they don’t stop. For the first time in longer than she can remember, Lup doesn’t feel quite so alone. 

- As the century starts moving along the last members of the IPRE begin to formulate a plan, and it is finally ready to be put into action when they reach Faerun. How fitting it is that the triplet planet to their own original homes is where they make their last stand, and their last stand it is. Instead of running, they have realized that they have to starve the Blaze; fire can’t survive without oxygen, after all, and they hope that together, Merle and Lucretia can cast a shield strong enough to suffocate it. This is a long shot and they don’t know if it will work, but they have to stop running at some point and this seems like the perfect place to do it. Barry doesn’t tell Lup about their plan, because even though he knows that she wants the Blaze to be stopped the same as the rest of them, he also knows that the flaming planes know what Lup knows, and they can’t risk this plan going sideways. It hurts, and he hopes that things end well for her, but this is there last chance. Whatever happens, he is prepared to live with the consequences.

- The day comes, and…somehow, they do it. All of the crew ends up with pretty severe sunburns, but they suffocate the Blaze until it is just a flicker, and then with a tremendous blast outwards the planar systems are sent back to where they should be. Eventually the crew finds themselves back on the ground, and Barry enters Parley to try to see if there is anything left of Lup, and when he does he doesn’t find himself in a field. Now, those sprouts have grown, blocking out the sunlight with the heaviness of their canopies, and he sees Lup with her back to him, staring up at the leaves in this forest. “Are you…okay?” Okay doesn’t seem the proper term for the situation, because who could be okay after all of that, but she turns and there’s a brilliant smile on her face, and any pain in her eyes is overshadowed by the almost glowing joy. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

- She fades and leaves Parley, and Barry follows suit a second later, and standing there on the ground of Faerun is Lup. The rest of the Starblaster crew is understandably wary, and Taako has his arms around his chest as he turns away, but Barry just runs forward, grabs Lup’s hands that are so strangely warm, and asks her how this is possible. Apparently, some godly knitting needles clicked up ahead, and Lup found herself on the ground, watching a silver ship descending, and for the first time in a long time she was alone, and solely herself. A voice had drifted through her head, saying you have a chance to truly do good; don’t waste it. She doesn’t plan on it.

- After that, she and Barry fall in love (obvi) while they work on making belts that will let them go to all of those planes that got burned. She wants to do good, for real this time, and some part of her wants to see if she can do good, after everything that happened. She is still loud, and bright, but more of it is a defense mechanism and more of it is easy to disappear if pushed on, but over time she gets comfortable in her body again. She can help things, she can plant seeds in worlds that she burned, and maybe she can’t fix things herself but she can help other people to do so. Over all the worlds that they visit, she finds herself falling for this scientist, who is strange, and funny, and he doesn’t treat her like a destroyer; he treats her like she is anyone else (not that he looks that softly at just anyone else, but that’s besides the point) and it is nice to be allowed to be herself. She isn’t the Blaze, she isn’t a part of a hivemind, and for the first time in a long time she is simply Lup.

- Not all worlds respond quite so kindly, and not all worlds can be recovered, but she keeps pushing on. If being a part of the Blaze taught her anything, it was how to keep pushing on.

- Taako is wary of Lup at first, because he’s fine without a twin. He’s been an only child for a hundred years now, and he doesn’t need some avatar of a plane of destruction who looks like him to come in and try to act like his sister. He found a family on the Starblaster, anyway, so she can stop trying to pretend that everything is fine. Lup gets that, but she also doesn’t give up so easily, so instead of trying to be his sister – as much as it may hurt her – she just tries to be someone that he knows. Then, maybe she becomes a friend. Acquaintances, at least, and despite Taako keeping up his walls, he can see a teenage Lup laughing when this other Lup does. He hears his sister in her word choices, and he sees his twin every time they meet up. They get closer, and she comes to Taako when she breaks down after seeing yet another dead planet, and as Taako holds her, feeling so out of place and at home at the same time, he admits that he might see her has his sister. She’s not his Lup, but he might be her Taako.

#this got Real Long so kudos to yall who read all of it #hope this is good! #ash writes #ask #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #lup #lup taaco #barry bluejeans #blupjeans #taako #taako taaco #lucretia #Anonymous

[angstytieflingbard]

Platonic Taako x Deity!Reader

Request:  “I saw that requests were open and that you wrote for the adventure zone, And honestly? Amazing. I was wondering if you could like write a platonic thing of Taako and the reader being friends, and like the entire time the reader hid that they were like a god or something, and maybe Taakos reaction to it? Thank you for your time, and have a great day!” -Anon

Summary: (Y/N), also known as Sashelas, deity of the sea, gets caught up in the Bureau of Balance as they attempt to uncover what exactly is going on in Faerun. This is a series of moments along that journey, and how they became friends with a certain chaotic elven wizard along the way. 

WARNING: Non-graphic descriptions of canon-typical violence, light angst, spoilers regarding Taako’s backstory.

A/N: This was really fun to do! It ended up being a lot longer than I was expecting, it’s a full six pages, but I’m actually pretty proud of it! I took a bit of creative liberty with the prompt, I hope you don’t mind anon. It was nice to explore a bit of Forgotten Realms lore, particularly with aquatic elves, which are my favorite playable race in DnD. Anyways, enjoy the story, and if anyone reading this likes it or wants me to write something else, feel free to shoot me an ask! 

~~~~~~~

You stood back to back with Taako, fending off strange crystal and robot monsters in the depths of Leon’s laboratory. This was your first mission in the Bureau of Balance, having just become an agent after tracking the organization down with the help of a boy named Angus. 

It had been an ordeal, taking a mortal form and leaving your ocean domain, but it had been necessary. One of the few friends you had amongst the other gods, Pan, had grown increasingly concerned over the events in the material plane, and after a short chat with Istus, who had agreed that the mortals could use a helping hand, you had offered to go down for him. You had always been more involved than your peers in the guiding of your people, though land-dwellers were relatively new to you. 

As it turned out, the conspiracy you had come to investigate spanned the entire continent of Faerun, and it centered around this strange organization. So, of course, you joined up, and after a short incident where you stopped someone from stealing the Gaia Sash as the “Tres Horny Boys” returned to base with it, you were made a reclaimer. 

That led you to now, running a crystal-robot monster through with your trident and the eccentric elven wizard behind you cursing as he shot off a string of offensive spells. 

“Shit!” Taako cried out as he got clipped with a sword. You spun and pulled him behind you, nearly decapitating the thing that attacked him. 

“You good?” You asked, sparing a moment to glance him over for obvious injuries before returning your focus to the legion of enemies around you. 

“I’m alive, though I don’t know how long that’s gonna last!” He replied with a whine. 

“You can die after we’re done!” He cackled at that, and despite your words, you went out of your way to bump shoulders with him, transferring some of your magical energy to him. If there was one thing you were glad to retain in this mortal form, it was that, if only for its usefulness in keeping your spellcasting party members on this side of the veil. 

As you both threw yourselves back into the fight, you resolved to talk to him more after this. If you both survived that is. 

~~~

“There is something I can give all of you.” Istus told your group. You’d been uncomfortable ever since you walked in, not enjoying the feeling of being in another deities place of worship. She had essentially ignored you, much to your relief. 

“There will come a decision, some time in your future. It will be a difficult one. And when it comes, I will give you time to decide.” All of you shared a few glances. 

“I mean, that sounds pretty chill.” Taako answered for all of you, and she nodded. 

“Then, I will fulfill that promise now.” Behind her, a small portal opened, and she stepped into it, returning after only a short moment, wiping a tear from her eyes as she faced all of you. 

“You’re going to be amazing.” She said, and with a single nod to you, she disappeared, time speeding back up as the temple fell around you all. 

~~~ 

A knock on your bedroom door startled you from your nightly routine. You quickly moved to open it, peeking out into the living room of the dorm you shared with the other reclaimers. 

Taako stood in front of your door, looking pitifully at you. He was wearing plain pajamas, with a star-patterned blanket around his shoulders and his long blonde hair falling messily over his shoulders and down his back. 

“Sorry if I woke you up, um…” He paused, hesitant. 

“Come in. I was just getting ready for bed.” You opened the door wider and he slipped past you into your room. He paused for only a moment to take in your decorations before he moved to sit on your bed. 

“You like the ocean, I see. I should have guessed, from the trident and all.” He said uncharacteristically softly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. You hummed in agreement, sitting next to him. 

“Are you okay, Taako?” He took a deep, shuddering breath, avoiding your eyes as he mustered up a response. 

“I wanted to talk about what happened in Refuge. With the chalice.” You nodded in understanding. The chalice had shown all of you your biggest regrets, offered to erase them, at the price of being the new holder of the relic. It had been tempting, you had to admit. Deities have many regrets over the course of their eternities, and you were no exception. But you had remembered the Bureau, the people you had befriended, and knowing you would risk the chance of having ever met them at all, you had refused the offer. 

“What did he show you?” You asked softly, taking his hands in your own in an attempt at comfort. There was a pause, then he choked out a small sob, shoulders shaking. 

He told you what he’d been shown, his greatest failure. Told you of Sazed, and his betrayal, the death of the people of Glamor Springs. By the end, he was curled up against you, shuddering as he held back tears. 

“She was right when she said that was my worst regret. But now… I think my greatest regret was letting ever letting Sazed travel with me. Or even worse, having loved him.” You sighed softly. 

“You couldn’t have known what he’d do. It wasn’t your fault, Taako. It never was and it never will be.” 

You fell asleep curled up next to him, hands intertwined, the bond between you stronger than ever.

~~~

You waited for the pod to arrive to pick all of you up, more tired than you’d ever been in the time you’d been mortal as you laid in the grass outside Barry Bluejeans’ cave hide-out. 

“That was absolute bullshit.” Taako said, sitting down next to you. He had helped Magnus arrange his belongings so they’d be relatively easy to hold even in his new mannequin form, and had talked Barry into his pocket spa. Merle and Magnus were still a few feet away now, talking quietly about something you couldn’t hear. 

“It was. I get the feeling going back to the Bureau is gonna be equally as shitty.” You said, sitting up. 

“You know what, (Y/N)? I’m getting real tired of you being right about things.” You laughed. 

“Well, guess you’re gonna be tired forever then.” 

The pod arrived and you all hopped on, bracing yourselves for what was to come. 

~~~

You shuddered, recovering from the feeling of drinking the ichor of a voidfish for the second time. The director, Lucretia, was talking Taako, Magnus, Merle, and Davenport through the sudden regaining of apparently a century of memories. Carey, Killian, Noel and you all listened in rapt attention, you with dawning horror and anger as Lucretia explained what she had done to them. 

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?” You said as soon as she finished explaining. Several pairs of eyes landed on you. 

“You couldn’t understan-” She started, but you cut her off. 

“The hell I couldn’t! You made the entire universe incapable of processing even the concept of the Hunger, and then you went ahead and brought it here. And now, the entire world is under attack by these things and they can’t even see them! They can’t even defend themselves!” Lucretia’s grip on her staff tightened as horror dawned on her face. 

“I just… I can fix this, I just need a bit more time to cast the shield. Please.” 

“Lucretia, you can’t do this! You’ll destroy every bond in the world, you know this.” Lucretia shook her head, pointedly ignoring Barry’s words. 

Taako sighed deeply, turning away from her. 

“Fine, whatever.” 

“Taako, please you have to understand-” 

“Lucretia, you realize Taako just found out he lost his sister?” Magnus interrupted her, turning to Taako. 

“Taako, I know it wasn’t the way you wanted, but… You found her.” 

“Let me make something clear.” Taako said finally, his gazing slowly crossing over everyone in the room. 

“I appreciate what you’re doing, and I’m on board for whatever the plan is. But understand this: I have nothing, and I don’t give a shit. The world is ending, and I. Don’t. Care.” You frown at his words, settling a hand on his shoulder for just a moment. He shakes his head at you silently and you sigh, moving away from him. 

At that moment, the glass ceiling shatters, and the room floods with black opal monstrosities. 

~~~

“Kraavitz!” Taako cries, pulling his reaper boyfriend from the portal in the black glass circle under your feet. You smile, glancing at the two for a moment before throwing yourself at another enemy attempting to get past you. 

By the time there’s a big enough gap between waves to take a breather with the rest of the group, Taako, Kraavitz and Lup have all caught up. You smile, noticing the wizards’ disguise spell is gone, and bump shoulders with him as you stand next to him. He grins at you. 

“(Y/N)! This is my boyfriend, Kraavitz. You saw him in Leon’s lab I think?” 

“Yeah, I remember him. You’d already caught him with the tentacles by the time I got involved in that fight though, I think.” Taako laughed. Kraavitz glanced you over curiously, suddenly going still as he realized something. 

“Kraavitz? You good?” Taako asked. Kraavitz took a short step back, bowing respectfully. 

“Sashelas! I had no idea you would be here, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner…” You winced as Lup, Barry and Taako turned turned their attention to Kraavitz’ exclamation. 

“You really don’t need to do that… Especially since I didn’t tell anyone who I was…” You grumbled, and Kraavitz flustered. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, uh, blow your cover or anything.” He grimaced. 

“You couldn’t have known.” There was a moment of silence, before Taako cut in. 

“Hey, what the fuck was that? Why’d he call you Sashelas?” You groaned. 

“Well, you already know my name’s (Y/N), but to the aquatic elves, and the other gods, I’m known as Sashelas, or Deep Sashelas if you wanna be fancy.” 

“The other gods?” Taako asked incredulously. You glanced around, eyes catching on another skirmish in the distance. 

“Wow, look, more things to fight! I’m gonna… go do that.” You exclaimed, charging off into battle.

~~~

It had been hours since the battle ended. The sky had cleared of the black opal of the Hunger, but the Starblaster hadn’t returned yet. 

“They’ll come back. They wouldn’t leave us now, not after everything that’s happened.” Kraavitz said, sitting down next to you. 

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry about them while they’re gone.” With that, you settled into a comfortable silence as you waited. 

It was only about twenty minutes later that a bright light appeared in the sky, shining brilliantly for just a moment before going out, as though to announce the return of the Starblaster. 

The moment the ship settled on the ground, Taako vaulted over the railing of the deck and made his way over to you and Kraavitz. 

“Hey! Sorry we took so long.” Taako apologized as he approached. He hugged Kraavitz and gave him a quick, sweet kiss before he turned to you. 

“I think we need to talk, if you don’t mind.” You nodded. Kraavitz smiled sympathetically at you, moving to give the two of you a moment to yourselves. 

“So…” You started. Taako laughed. 

“So, you’ve been an ocean god this whole time and didn’t tell me?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. You winced. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I came up to investigate some of the things that the Bureau had been responsible for, and then I made friends with Angus and just got caught up…” 

“Well, it’s a little reassuring I guess. You’re a literal god and you still hang out with me, so I can’t be that bad.” You shook your head. 

“Not bad at all. Pretty fucking great, actually.” You paused. “I meant it when I said what happened wasn’t your fault. He made the choices he did, and you couldn’t help that. Glamor Springs couldn’t have either.” Taako nodded slowly at your words. He took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“I assume you’ll have to go back to wherever you were hanging out before?” 

“Yes. I’ve been away from Iumiathiashae for too long. The aquatic elves can be surprisingly needy, when they want to be.” You joked. 

“You’re welcome to visit whenever you like, though. I’m sure they’d love to host one of the saviors of Faerun.” Taako laughed at that. 

“I might take you up on that!” He paused for a second. “It’s still a little wild, though. I mean, my best friend is a god!” You smiled, squeezing his hand once before letting go. You stood, stretching. 

“It’s about time I go. It’ll be a relief once I get to the ocean, I’ll be able to drop this mortal form of mine.” Taako stood up with you. 

“Promise you’ll keep in touch?” 

“Always.”

#req #request #taz #the adventure zone #taz balance #taako #taako taaco #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Wingman - Part 4

I have six parts written and I feel like I still haven’t finished. Oh, well. ^^

You can read the first three parts here. Please mind the tags on Ao3.

---

After that night, sleeping together quickly became the norm. The first few nights they hemmed and hawed, both equally nervous about asking for it. But, somehow, they still always ended up in each other’s arms. After a week, it became routine. The first one to go to bed always retired to the other one’s bed in a silent admission of ‘yes, I want to sleep next to you tonight’.

It often took Rhett a while to fall asleep. He’d lose himself in the enjoyment of Link. The warmth of his body, the fall and rise of his chest, the little murmurs he made in his sleep. Rhett tried to make out what he was saying, secretly hoping to hear his name. He kept hoping that Link was dreaming about him. That in Link’s dream world they were doing more than sleeping next to each other. And when he did fall asleep, he dreamt of Link. He dreamt of touching Link, the quiet sighs and whines he could bring worth with his hands and mouth. He dreamt of Link on top of him. He dreamt of them joining in ways he’d never before imagined. If Link hadn’t been such a heavy sleeper, there were many nights he could have heard Rhett moan his name into the darkness.

Months rolled by. Link didn’t seem interested in dating anymore. Rhett tried half-heartedly to encourage him. He told him not all guys were like that, that he’d just had bad luck with man bun. Link just waved his hand annoyedly and told Rhett to leave it alone. He’d date again when he felt like it. Secretly, Rhett was glad. He hated himself for that. In November, Link asked Rhett if they were going home for Christmas. The way he phrased it made Rhett’s chest fill with warmth. “Are WE going?” Like they either went together or not at all. Things were still a bit tense between Link and his family but they agreed that it would still do them good to spend time with the relatives.

They drove in together, listening to music and playing stupid road trip games. Rhett dropped Link off at his childhood home and continued to his own. It was good to be home. It was good to hug his mother and get a firm handshake from his father. It was good to sit at the dining table and let Mama Di spoil him. It was good to see his brother and talk about the time passing, to marvel the fact they were grown ups, making their mother laugh at the thought. It was good be in his old room, smell the scents of home and hear the murmurs of his parents downstairs.  

But when he got to bed, the good feeling vanished. His bed was cold and empty. He’d grown so used to Link’s body pressed against his at night, that he had trouble falling asleep. After an hour of anxiously rolling around in his sheets, he relented and called Link. Just hearing his voice instantly warmed him again. Rhett fleetingly remembered the adage of how absence makes the heart grow fonder. It had only been a few hours since he saw Link, but it surprised Rhett how true it felt. They talked like before college, reverting back to their teenage selves, giggling and teasing each other, staying up too late. They fell asleep one after the other while the line was still open.  

On the last day before driving back, Link came for dinner. Rhett was buzzing the whole morning, full of anxious energy. His mother finally had enough of his antics and ordered him to laundry duty, just so she could get a break from all the tomfoolery. Rhett was sitting on the floor of the utility room folding clothes when he heard the door. Link’s voice drifted in. Rhett felt his body tug towards him. He refused to get up. Don’t be desperate, he told himself. Link greeted his father and talked with Rhett’s mom for what seemed like ages. Rhett’s foot was shaking nervously. Finally, the door creaked open and Link peeked in.

“Here you are.”

“Hey, Link,” Rhett fought to keep his voice steady, fought against the need to throw his body against Link’s. He couldn’t help the smile, though. It lit up his face and Link answered in kind with that crooked smile of his and sat in front of Rhett.

“Can I help?”

“I know how much you like pairing socks, so this might just be my Christmas present to you,” Rhett laughed. Link grimaced at him but got to work anyway. They sat in comfortable silence. There was no need to exchange pleasantries, no need to tell about how their holidays had went. They’d been on the phone every night. Just the presence of Link made Rhett’s heart sing. He got lost in his thoughts. After college, they could get a place together. It would be smart and economical. Two bedrooms of course. They’d get jobs and drive to work together. Maybe if they worked close enough, they could get lunch together. They could spend the nights together, watching movies or hiking or going to bars or anything they’d like. Is it so wrong, Rhett thought, that I want to share my life with him?

“Hello, Rhett? Your mom is calling for us.” Link’s voice brought Rhett back to reality.

“Oh, sorry. Got lost in my head,” Rhett said, smiling sheepishly.

“What were you thinking about?” Link looked interested. Rhett shrugged trying to hide his blush.

“You know. The future.”

After dinner, they sat in Rhett’s room. Link settled on the bed and Rhett sat on the floor next to his old boombox, playing tapes they’d made as kids. They were listening to a classic Merle song, both in reverent silence. Link had turned on his back and was staring at the ceiling. When the song ended, he sighed. Rhett started to look for a certain tape.  

“You know this is where we slept together the first time.”

Rhett’s head snapped up. Link laughed awkwardly and hastily continued.

“I mean. Ha! I meant...You know, sleepovers.”

“Mm-hmm. The first sleepover was at your place,” Rhett reminded, cursing his need to be a stickler for details.

“Yeah, but you slept on the floor. We usually just slept on the floor. This is where we slept in the same bed.” Suddenly, Link seemed uncomfortable. He got up with a jump and walked to Rhett’s desk, where he started to fiddle with his pens and markers.

“I remember,” Rhett said quietly. They’d been teenagers. There had been a thunderstorm. Rhett had gotten so annoyed at Link’s yelps and whimpers that he’d invited him to the bed with him. They’d both been so self-conscious and awkward. It amused Rhett, compared to the way they slept nowadays, wrapped around each other, completely relaxed.

“That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” Rhett asked still rifling through his tapes.

“That I was gay.”

The air in the room stood still. Rhett’s hand stopped mid-move and his heart hammered on with a pace of a race horse. It seemed that Link had stopped breathing. He was motionless too, waiting for Rhett’s reactions. But Rhett’s brain had stopped working. All he could think about was Link. It was like a strobe light in his head, a pulse in his veins: linklinklinklinklinklink. What felt like thousands of years, Link drew a sharp breath and whispered:

“It’s okay, Rhett. Whatever. I need to go.”

The door had already closed behind Link when Rhett got his faculties back. He scrambled up and pulled the door open.

“Link!”

#rhink #rhink fic #wingman #part 4 #fluff #angst #pining #college!rhink #my dumb boys #Appa writes fic

[basementtreasure]

After the War

A fic based on a prompt/conversation with @inkedinserendipity about Kravitz dying and becoming a reaper during the Relic Wars, and Taako finding out.

Ships: Taakitz, some Blupjeans

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Lup, Barry Bluejeans

Words: 7.1k

Spoilers through the end of the Balance Arc

EDIT: Now on AO3

It starts with a letter. Taako usually doesn’t pay much mind to the fan mail he gets after the day of Story and Song. Most of it is the same old thing, and now he has Ren to organize them and send out pre-made replies. Before he gives them to her, though, he always like to read through them. He claims it’s a nice ego boost, but there’s a certain softness in his eyes, in the gentle way he holds the paper, that hides beneath his usual preening at the praise.

He likes to be reminded of the people he’s saved. It helps dampen that feeling of guilt from when the crew of the Starblaster watched the world turn on itself because of their creations. He’d never admit it, though, not even to Lup (who knows anyways, but lets him pretend to be more vain and selfish than he really is).

This letter, though, this one is different. He’s laying across the couch in the living room, boots propped up on the armrest as he tosses read fan mail into a pile on the table. The sound of Kravitz moving around their shared home breaks up the long silence. It’s the last letter of the day, and Taako doesn’t think much of it as he opens up the envelope.

Dear Mister Taako, it starts. They never seem to know what to call him. It’s always something weird and too formal for Taako’s taste. He’d rather they all just stick with Taako—cha boy’s got a brand to maintain after all.

You probably get a lot of letters, being a savior of the world and all—thanks for that, by the way! Really appreciate not being dead! That’s new. Taako might not act like a full-blown hero most of the time, but saving the world is hardly ever an aside in these letters. Usually he gets a full page of nothing but thanks before they write anything else.

This is a little weird, and probably not something you’d like to talk about, but I don’t know where else to turn. I live in a small farming village named Greensborough near the edge of the Felicity Wilds. At the edge of town is a remnant left from the Relic Wars. From the Philosopher’s Stone. Taako sits up from his reclined position and clutches the letter in his hand. The paper wrinkles and warps the words he just read, but he can still see them, as if they’re burned into his mind.

“Taako? Is something wrong, babe?” Kravitz’s voice is enough to calm Taako to the point where he’s no longer in danger of ripping the page. Taako holds up one finger and continues to read. As he does, he feels the couch shift as Kravitz sits beside him. A hand starts to rub soothing circles into his shoulder. Taako rests the hand he had held up on Kravitz’s wrist, a silent thanks he knows Kravitz will understand.

During the Relic Wars, someone used the Philosopher’s Stone to turn several townspeople here to gold. Their bodies are still there to this day. Taako’s blood turns cold as he closes his hand tighter around Kravitz’s wrist. The little voice that he had gotten so good at tuning out starts screaming this is your fault this is your fault your fault yourfaultyourfaultyourfault.

It had been so much easier not to care, to think of everyone else in the universe as dust. The crew were the only ones that mattered. But then a little boy with glasses wormed his way into Taako’s long closed-off heart. Then it was a charming reaper. An excitable cook. A batty old witch. Suddenly this world was his home and all these little specks of dust were his specks of dust. And he had let it go to shit for so long, only intervening when he didn’t even remember he was to blame. Retroactive guilt was a real bitch.

“Love,” Kravitz says, low and soft. Taako can feel him shift to get a better look at the letter, but he angles it away and bids Kravitz to wait with another squeeze of his wrist. Kravitz sighs and Taako can feel his breath on the back of his neck, but he doesn’t push and Taako is idly reminded that he loves this man so, so much. He continues reading.

We’ve made our peace with what happened then. The site has become something of a memorial for those we lost, in the Relic Wars and on the day of Story and Song. But the thing is, well, solid gold is a little hard for small-town farmers to protect. There have been a few incidents with bandits and marauders. Luckily, none of them have been successful so far. Still, I can’t bear to think that the people we lost might one day be a prize for some greedy, awful thieves. None of us here in Greensborough have the power to turn gold into anything else. I was hoping that as the most powerful transmutation wizard in the world, you might be able to come and finally put them to rest. It’s what they deserve.

Taako folds the letter back up and hold it to his chest. “Babe?” he says, his voice too hoarse for his own liking.

“Yes?” Kravitz brushes Taako’s hair over his shoulder, fingers gently trailing over the nape of his neck.

“Can you take me somewhere quick with your reaper-portal thing?”

Kravitz’s fingers still on his skin. After a moment’s silence, he moves his hand down to take Taako’s, lacing their fingers together. “Of course. Where do you want to go?”

Taako almost doesn’t get up, not wanting to give up Kravitz’s touch that’s kept him grounded so far, but he has to. He makes his way to a large bookshelf, mostly filled with Angus’s collection of books—or at least one copy of his collection, which has duplicates at both Magnus and Merle’s places since he moves frequently between the three men’s homes.

Resting against the newest Caleb Cleveland novel is a rolled-up map. Taako takes it out and spreads it on the table. Kravitz stands to look over his shoulder, hand resting on Taako’s hip. The motion is almost automatic, and Taako holds in a sigh of relief at being held again. Man, a decade of touch-starvation really did fuck him up, didn’t it? He’s not sure he knows exactly how he feels about Kravitz being able to read him so well, always offering the exact kind of comfort he needs. Not even all the seven birds managed that, only Lup (of course) and Barry (who Taako suspects got some tips from Lup sometime during their voyage).

Taako finds the Felicity Wilds on the map with little issue and begins scanning the areas around it. There, near the northern edge is his destination, no more than a speck with tiny letters reading Grnsboro to label it. Taako points at it. “Take me there.”

“Right now?” Kravitz sounds concerned but willing, and that’s good enough for Taako. He’ll feel much better when he puts this all behind him.

“Right now.”

Kravitz takes another look at the map, and then steps away from Taako. His skin fades away as he reaches a hand out and closes it slowly into a fist. His scythe appears just as his fingers are in the perfect position to wrap around it. With a flash of light glinting off steel, he slashes through the air, opening a rift.

Kravitz takes a moment to re-materialize his skin before holding a hand out towards Taako. Taako takes it and finds himself surprised by how cold it is. He’s grown used to Kravitz’s recently raised body temperature, but it still takes time for him to warm up after going skeleton-mode. If he’s being perfectly honest, which he rarely ever is, it’s uncomfortably foreboding given what he’s about to do.

Kravitz squeezes his hand and there’s a rush of warmth. Not quite as warm as a living person, but soothing nonetheless. Together, they step through the rift.

Kravitz’s rifts weren’t exactly meant for living beings. As Taako passes through it, gripping Kravitz’s hand like a lifeline, he feels a strange falling sensation deep in his chest—maybe his soul?—that reminds him a little too much of dying.

The moment passes, and they’re standing on a worn dirt path. A general store and a tavern stand to their right, and to their left is a few small houses, behind which large green fields roll gently over the hills. Every single person in what passes for a town square here stops what they’re doing and stares.

A young human woman with mousy brown hair and a face full of freckles stands next to a well, holding a bucket. The bucket falls as her hands go limp, water splashing out and soaking into the dirt around her. She steps forward as if in a trance, her boots squelching in the newly damp earth, then smiles. “You got my letter.”

Taako clears his throat and quickly schools his expression into a practiced nonchalance. “Yeah, well, I was bored. Thought this might be a bit of a challenge, y’know? Don’t have many of those since I saved basically everything in existence.”

Taako expects Kravitz to see right through him, for him to sigh and smile fondly, not telling anyone how much Taako cares but giving him that knowing look anyways. But Kravitz’s fingers are loose around his hand, and when Taako looks over, he’s blinking owlishly at their surroundings.

“Babe? You doing alright?”

“Huh?” Kravitz’s eyes snap back to Taako’s face with the wide, confused look of someone who’s just been woken suddenly. He shakes his head and gives Taako an unconvincing smile. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. This place just… seems familiar for some reason.”

“You probably caught some necromancer here a thousand years ago or something. I’m sure you can’t remember all the places you’ve reaped some poor schmuck.” Taako doesn’t really believe the words coming out of his mouth—then again, when does he?—but he really wants to leave. Kravitz is being weird and this woman is looking at him with tears in her eyes and somewhere nearby there’s a monument of people he’s killed. He’ll say whatever he has to in order to speed this up. Save the worrying and thinking and remembering for later.

“No, I remember all the jobs I’ve done for Her Majesty,” Kravitz says. He sounds a little disappointed, like he was hoping the answer could be that simple. “I haven’t been her servant for that long, you know. You, Magnus, and Merle were my first big job. Most of my time was in the Eternal Stockade before then.”

“Huh. That explains a lot,” Taako says blithely, filing away that piece of information for his growing To-Be-Processed-And-Dealt-With-Later list. He turns to the young woman. “Lead the way. Let’s get this thing done.”

The young woman is babbling as she walks, showering Taako in praise and thanks that he’d normally savor. He can’t seem to focus on any of her words though, and as he follows her, Kravitz stays in place, still staring at the town around them. Reluctantly, Taako drops his hand and leaves him to muse on his deja-vu.

As Taako walks away, Kravitz focuses in on the tavern. The sign is faded beyond recognition, but there’s something in the back of Kravitz’s mind that he can’t quite place.

The townsfolk slowly go back to their activities, still sneaking glances at both Kravitz and Taako. An elven man pushes open the door to the tavern and Kravitz catches a few notes from an old piano. He can feel a phantom sensation of worn, well-loved keys on the pads of his fingers. Kravitz has heard plenty of pianos over the years, but this sound…

It’s the sound of the piano he learned to play on.

Kravitz gasps aloud as the faded memories return. He remembers wandering into the tavern when he was too young to be there, ducking behind tables to avoid the bartender’s gaze so he could stay and listen to the old woman at the piano. He remembers the way she played with her eyes closed, letting the music wash over her until nothing else mattered. He remembers when she finished her last piece of the day, opened her eyes, and looked right at him.

“A fan of music, are we? Do you know how to play?”

It only takes a second for Kravitz to remember what else happened here, in the village he grew up in. The reason Taako must’ve wanted to come in the first place, and why he seemed to be barely holding himself together.  Kravitz turns on his heel and runs after Taako.

It’s unnervingly easy to rush down the dirt path and take a sharp turn around the back of a storage shed, like the past decade away from the town never happened. He’s moving purely on muscle memory, surprised by how well he remembers every twist of the path that leads to the edge of town. He hops over a fence that wasn’t there when he was alive—likely built to block off the scene of the tragedy, he thinks with cold dread pooling in his stomach.

“Taako, wait—" he calls out, but he can see it’s too late.

Taako and the young woman stand before five golden figures. The figures are arranged in a rough semi-circle, all facing the point where Taako is standing now. Their faces are distorted in pain and fear, some holding their hands up as if to shield themselves from a blow. One of the figures is no more than a child with fat, golden tears running down his cheeks.

Taako’s eyes are locked onto the face of the figure in front of the child, his arm flung out in an attempt to stand between the child and their attacker. Taako looks into the figure’s familiar eyes, eyes that he’s woken up to each morning filled with love. These eyes are wide and frightened and just a little hateful.

This is how Kravitz looked at his murderer, Taako realizes. It was his relic that did this. How fitting that look survived until it found him.

Faintly, he hears Kravitz step towards him. “Taako, love, I…” But there are no words. What could he possibly say? Taako killed him.

The young woman’s gaze flickers nervously between Taako, Kravitz, and the golden corpse. Wisely, she says nothing and takes a few steps back to give them some privacy.

Kravitz walks closer, but doesn’t try to touch him. Taako lets out a short, wet laugh that hurts more than it probably should. Even when they’re looking at the proof that Taako killed him, Kravitz is still able to read him so well.

Taako finally pries his eyes away from the golden Kravitz and turns to the (sort of) living one. It’s only in that moment, looking into Kravitz’s sad, vulnerable eyes, that Taako realizes how angry he is. He’s angry at himself for making that fucking stone, angry at whoever used it to hurt these people, angry at Kravitz for not telling him.

The anger must show on his face, because Kravitz stumbles back a step with an expression like he just got slapped. A part of him takes some sick satisfaction in making Kravitz back away, running away from Taako like the monster he is.

Without a word, Taako moves to one of the other golden figures and fishes a small stone out of his pocket. He never actually used this when he was adventuring, did he? He takes a breath and curls his fingers tightly around the transmutation stone with one hand, and places the other on the figure’s shoulder.

He doesn’t pray, because Taako doesn’t do prayer, but he does send a little thought Istus’s way as he concentrates on the figure.

I know this stone isn’t really powerful enough to change them, but they were killed by another stone made by me and one of them turned into my reaper boyfriend, so that’s gotta be enough bond juice for you to help me out, yeah?

The golden figure darkens, and small chunks begin to fall away and scatter on the ground until there’s nothing but a pile of rich, dark earth at Taako’s feet. He moves onto the next figure, and one by one turns them to dirt. He saves the child for second-to-last, and then finally moves to stand in front of the golden Kravitz.

There’s a moment where he just stares at his face, committing his last living expression to memory, letting the statue of his love focus all that fear and hatred on Taako. Then, he places his hand on Kravitz’s cheek, and feels him crumble away.

When it’s done, he rubs his fingers together, feeling the grains of dirt that stuck to him. He turns to the young woman and says, “Plant something nice here. I made sure there’s lots to feed it.”

The woman nods, equal parts frightened and thankful. “Thank you.” She glances at Kravitz, whom Taako pointedly does not look at. He instead turns away from the town, and just starts walking.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, trailing a few feet behind. “Please, at least let me take you home.”

Taako pulls at a cord around his neck, revealing his Stone of Farspeech. “Lup.” There isn’t an answer, and Taako can’t keep his hands from shaking anymore. “Lup.”

Kravitz is talking again, but it’s just buzzing in Taako’s ears. He grips the stone so tightly that the cord starts to hurt his neck.

“Barold,” he tries, his voice unsteady.

“Taako?” Barry’s voice comes out of the stone, and Taako almost falls to his knees at the sound.

“I need you to pick me up.” He doesn’t know when he started crying, but it’s clear in his voice by now.

“What’s wrong?” Barry’s voice becomes panicked. “Are you alright?”

“Please,” is all he can manage.

“I’m coming. It’s gonna be fine, I’m coming right now.”

Taako finally looks at Kravitz and says the first thing he’s said to him since he saw Kravitz’s body. “Go.”

Kravitz doesn’t push him—he never pushes him, he’s too kind, too good for Taako. He closes him eyes and nods, resigned. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he’s gone, leaving only the sound of a raven’s wing flapping in the distance.

Taako barely has time to wallow in his misery before Barry is there, pulling him into a tight hug. Taako must’ve looked pretty bad, because Barry started talking in his Soft Voice. It was the one he’d used on those rare occasions when Lup had died without Taako, and he couldn’t do anything without feeling an oppressive void at his side. The whole crew was gentle with him, but Barry was the one who sat with him, always wrapping an arm around him and filling the silence with his voice, making sure Taako was never alone. It kept him sane as he waited for the year to end.

“I’ve got you,” Barry says, and Taako can’t help but cling to him. “I’m getting us out of here, okay?” There’s the falling feeling again, and then Taako is being lowered down onto Lup and Barry’s couch.

“Why didn’t Lup pick up?” Taako asks, voice small. He holds back a hiccup and tries to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Barry cups Taako’s face in his hands and starts to wipe away his tears. “She’s on a mission for the Raven Queen. Her stone is silenced. I can override it, just give me second.” He reaches for his stone and it pulses with red arcane energy for a moment.

Taako knows the right thing to do is stop him. There’s really nothing Lup can do to make this right, and he’d be pulling her away from some cosmically important mission. But dammit, Taako wants his sister, and he can’t be bothered to give a shit about much else.

Barry turns away as he whispers into his stone, probably because he’s telling Lup how awful Taako looks right now. Only now does he realize that he never even put on his usual Disguise Self before going out. Gods only know what Barry must be thinking after finding him alone in the middle of nowhere with his home face on.

Lup appears in a literal flash, and hot air blasts out from her rift. She’s got strange black smudges on her clothes and cheek, but she wastes no time in kneeling on the floor nest to Taako and looking him over. Her hands flutter over his arms, both reassuring him and checking for injuries.

Satisfied that he is physically uninjured, Lup takes Taako’s hands and holds them tightly. “What happened?” There’s an edge to her voice, an implied I’ll kill whoever hurt you that only makes Taako feel worse. After all, he’s the bad guy in this story.

Taako breaks. He can’t understand half the words coming out of his mouth and his ears are ringing and he doesn’t pause to breathe for so long that his chest hurts. He stumbles his way through the story, and then rambles about guilt and Kravitz’s face and it’s unfair it’s so unfair he killed Kravitz he killed him.

Taako’s half-nonsense devolves into sobs as he buries his face in Lup’s shoulder. He spends several seconds doing nothing but trembling as Lup holds him. “It was supposed to be over,” he mumbles into the fabric of her robe. “We won. The end. No more relics.”

“It is over,” Lup says. “Kravitz died a decade ago. It’s not your…” Lup seems to realize that Taako won’t believe it’s not his fault and stops herself. “It’s not starting again. I promise.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. Wanna help me make dinner? I was thinking tacos.”

Taako snorts. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Is it working?” Lup leans away to give Taako a devious smile.

“Hell yeah.” Taako’s smile isn’t quite his usual one, nor is it his sincere one, but it’s a start.

Barry is absolutely not allowed in the kitchen while the twins work. He tries to follow them (Not to cook, he was just trying to be supportive!), but they usher him out, telling him that his mere presence will spoil the food.

Lup doesn’t try to talk more about what happened with Kravitz, but she does pull out one of their aunt’s old recipes for a side dish, so Taako knows he’s getting the little twin treatment today. (They don’t actually have a record of who was born first, so they take turns being big twin and little twin whenever it’s convenient for them. Usually Taako’s not too hot on being the little twin, but today seems to be a day of exceptions.)

Lup works close to Taako, always bumping their elbows together and leaning on his shoulder to watch him work whenever she has a free moment. He teases her for it and she teases right back, and they dance around the subject of why so well that they should get a goddamn trophy. Or at least a spot on Fantasy Dancing with the Stars.

When dinner’s ready, Taako goes to let Barry know his exile has ended while Lup sets the table. But as Taako approaches the living room, he hears Barry speaking. Then, he hears a voice that is not Barry’s.

“—just want to know he’s okay.” Kravitz. Taako’s heart races as he pokes his head around the corner. Barry is talking into his Stone of Farspeech, and Kravitz is not in the house. Taako doesn’t know whether or not he’s happy about that.

“Well, ‘okay’ isn’t how I’d put it,” Barry says. “But he’s here, and you know Lup and I are gonna take care of him. I think it’s best if you wait a while, give him some space.”

“Right. Of course.” Kravitz’s voice is strained. “I… I should go, then.”

“Bye, Kravitz.” Barry waits for a moment with no response, then sighs and tucks the stone away. Taako ducks back behind the corner and waits a hopefully un-suspicious amount of time before walking into the room and announcing, “Soup’s on, Barold.”

Taako manages to compartmentalize enough to enjoy dinner. The food is warm and familiar and tastes amazing—natch. Lup links their ankles under the table and Barry drones on about the finer details of some research paper he’s working on. He manages to avoid necromancy talk and honestly, Taako might’ve been interested in a better mood. But for now, he half-listens and ribs Barry about wanting to study after already being one of the multiverse’s most accomplished arcanists and having said accomplishments implanted into everyone’s minds via Voidfish.

When they’re ready to go to bed, they don’t even bother with the pretense of making up the guest bedroom. Taako’s kicked Barry out of his own bed before, but tonight the three of them pile on together.

Waking up next to Lup is familiar enough that for a second, Taako doesn’t think about why it’s not Kravitz next to him in bed. He listens to Lup’s snoring as yesterday’s events settle in his mind. He lifts his head enough to check the rest of the bed and doesn’t find Barry—he must already be up for the day. He was always more of an early-riser than the twins. With just the two of them there, Taako can almost pretend it’s the old days again, back before the IPRE, with no one in his heart but his sister, who would never let him down. Of course, they never had as nice a place as this to crash in the old days. Even when he closes his eyes, the sheets are too soft for the illusion to fully set in.

Eventually, he sighs and props himself up on his elbow, resigned if not ready to face the morning. He leans over to kiss Lup’s forehead before rolling out of bed. He pulls his fingers through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen, taming his wild bed-head into a more manageable mess for now.

The smell of coffee drifts through the air and Taako enters the kitchen to find Barry leaning against the counter with a mug. He raises it in greeting, and then nods at the spare mugs. “Want some?”

“Made by you?” Taako scoffs with no real bite.

“It’s Fantasy Costco Instant,” Barry says with a roll of his eyes. “None of my kitchen-curse on it.” He’s already pouring Taako a mug, which Taako takes mostly for the warmth rather than the taste. He holds it near his face after sips to let the steam lift past his face.

“So,” Barry says, absolutely failing at nonchalance. “Do you wanna… talk about it?”

“Depends. If I ignore it long enough will it go away?” Taako’s glad he has the mug to hide some of his expression. Barry’s too good at reading him. He leans back against the counter and tries not to look as hopeless as he feels.

“Probably not.” Barry leans next to Taako, just close enough that he can feel Barry’s arm brush against his. “Kravitz called last night. I get if you’re not ready to talk yet, but you can’t avoid him forever.”

“Everything was easier when I just had to wait a year for none of my actions to matter anymore.” He knows Barry understands what he really means: It was easier when they were all dust and I didn’t have to care and get my heart broken.

Barry sighs and they drink their coffee in silence. Taako leans a little more towards Barry, enough that he can still deny it was intentional, but also enough that Barry will see right through that.

“Listen,” Barry breaks the silence. “Lup and I have got to go to work. The Raven Queen gets that we’re family-first, but that mission Lup bailed on last night… We gotta go clean that up or it’s not gonna be good. Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Okay as always,” Taako says. He tries for dry humor, but it comes out as weary cynicism. He waits a second before speaking, unable to keep back the question burning the back of his tongue. “Will Kravitz be going with you, too?”

“Yeah. We’re meeting him there.”

“Tell him… Tell him he can come by today. I want to…” Taako trailed off as he realized he didn’t quite know what he wanted to do. Talk? Apologize? Yell? Just see him again?

Luckily for him, Barry just nodded and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll come by after work. Lup and I will be right there for you.”

Taako nodded back, unable to even think about more words to say.

When Lup wakes up she fusses over Taako the entire time she’s getting ready. He lets her more because it makes her feel better than him. By the time she and Barry are ready to rift out, he’s reassured her at least twelve times that he’ll be fine, which fools precisely no one in the room.

Finally, Lup and Barry say their last goodbyes and leave. Suddenly, Taako realizes he now actually has to deal with being alone. He stands in the living room for some time, staring at the spot where his sister and brother-in-law just were. The house feels a lot bigger without the two of them, and that annoying little voice in his head that keeps reminding him of every way he’s ever screwed up is having a field day.

Taako decides it’s time to start baking. He enters the kitchen and starts opening cupboards to take stock of everything at his disposal. Luckily this is Lup’s kitchen, which means it’s always got the basics and then some (unlike a certain fighter he could mention that doesn’t seem to get that a full spice rack isn’t optionable if you’re trying to make an edible dinner).

He starts out simply enough with whipping up a quick bread dough. There’s not much bread left in the pantry, and Lup and Barry will be lucky to find bona-fide fresh Taako bread when they get home. And if he’s a little extra rough kneading the dough, who’s going to know?

As the day passes, Taako’s creations get more and more complicated—works of art, if he does say so himself. He gets so lost in his work that it isn’t until his stomach starts growling that he realizes he’s never even stopped to really eat any of the pastries and goodies that have slowly been swallowing up the counter space. Sure, he’s taste-tested through the process like any respectable chef, but it’s almost mid-afternoon and all he’s really put in his stomach is the instant coffee Barry made.

He wipes his flour-covered hands on his apron and grabs a jelly tart off the top of a plate piled high before dropping unceremoniously into the nearest chair in the dining room. He takes a bite and the flavors are nothing short of perfection, but somehow chewing it feels like a chore. He tries to put his finger on what’s wrong. The texture is just right, the ratio of filling to dough is there.

He swallows the first bite and raises the tart again to his lips but doesn’t open his mouth. Fuck, he’s tired. He can’t even hold up the pastry anymore and lets his hand drop down to the table. His other hand supports his head as he leans over himself, really taking note of the weariness deep in his bones.

For a second, he’s afraid he’s going to start crying again, and what a sad sight that would be. Absolutely mortifying. But tears don’t come. He emptied himself out last night and now there’s just a big old nothing left inside.

He manages to push himself up and walk back to the kitchen, depositing the half-eaten tart back on its original plate. It’s only his family who’d eat it anyway, and they don’t mind. He really should eat something, though. He looks around the kitchen nearly overflowing with food of the highest quality (i.e. his own) and finds nothing that actually motivates him to start eating.

He closes his eyes and, in his mind, starts going through everything he’d found in the kitchen while doing inventory earlier. There’s some leftover soup that’s ready to eat with just a quick prestidigitation.

He’s never really been one for leftovers. When he and Lup were small, there wasn’t a guarantee they’d be able to eat later, so they stuffed themselves until their plates were empty. Later on, it was Magnus who cleared the plates so they never had leftovers. But apparently in the Taaco-Bluejeans household, there’s enough soup to put away. It’s definitely Lup’s cooking, and that makes it easier for Taako to get through a full serving. He still feels a vague longing to put his head down on the table and never get up, but he has enough energy now to muster the dignity to resist.

There’s still hours before Lup, Barry, and… and Kravitz are due to be back. Taako briefly considers a nap, but decides if he lets himself rest, there’s no way he’ll get up to face Kravitz. Besides, lying down with nothing but his own thoughts isn’t something he’s feeling right now. He needs to keep himself busy.

He starts by putting all of his baked goods in the kitchen away. Storing and organizing everything takes the better part of an hour, and Taako stretches it to two by reorganizing the food several times over.

He calls Ren about some finer business details he’s been putting off since almost the beginning of building the Taako brand. He’s pretty sure she knows something is up, but she doesn’t say anything and pretending to listen to her talk about the minutiae of licensing is distracting enough.

After he hangs up, he looks at the Stone in his hand. There are a few voices he could use hearing right about now, but he hesitates. Magnus would rush over, no doubt, and Taako’s not sure he can handle more feelings talk before Kravitz shows up. Merle would give him a truly Pan-awful sermon. Angus is too smart for his own good and would see through any lie Taako tried to pull about how okay he is (not at all), and he’s not ready for any more honesty.

In the end, Taako spends his remaining time pacing around the house, pulling out his Stone and fiddling with it before putting it away, and restlessly adjusting anything he can get his hands on. Lup might kill him for how completely he’s reorganized the kitchen. (It’s better this way anyway; he’s told her a million times his system is the best.)

Finally, there’s a soft knock on the door. Taako jumps nearly a foot in the air. He almost thinks it’s not the reapers, because they could just appear inside any time they wanted, but when his shaky hand turns the knob, Lup is standing on the other side.

“We figured coming through the door might be better than popping in on you,” she says, answering Taako’s unasked questions as always.

Lup enters the room and puts an arm around Taako’s shoulders. Taako can’t see Barry and Kravitz behind her, but they can’t be too far.

“You ready?” Lup asks.

“No. Tell him to come in.” Taako drops onto the couch, then straightens up, trying to remember how to fake confidence. It didn’t used to be this hard.

“Barry and I will be in the other room. We’ll give you two space, but if you need us just call.” Lup tucks a strand of Taako’s hair behind his ear and lets her hand linger for a moment. Taako closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, his gaze meets Lup’s and she nods. Now or never.

Lup pulls away and ducks her head out of the door. “Come on in.”

Barry enters first, and he and Lup make their way further into the house and out of sight. Taako watches as Kravitz shuffles into the center of the room, standing as stiff and still as—well, as Death. Taako thinks he might not even be breathing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kravitz opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He sighs and looks down at his shoes, his posture still perfect and stiff. “The answer isn’t going to make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to know why you didn’t tell me I murdered you.” Taako’s voice sounds foreign to even himself. There’s no emotion. It’s that nothing inside of him speaking now.

Kravitz takes a tentative step forward. When Taako doesn’t respond, he continues until he’s sitting next to him on the couch. He doesn’t try to touch Taako, which is good, because Taako might just blast him with a fireball if he tries to pretend everything is okay.

“I didn’t realize it until after the Day of Story and Song,” Kravitz starts quietly. “My memories from when I was alive are fuzzy at the best of times, and it wasn’t until I fully processed that you made the Philosopher’s Stone that I realized what that meant for me.” Kravitz glances up at Taako’s eyes hesitantly, as if he’s asking permission to make eye contact. “I was already in love with you Taako, you know that. It didn’t change my feelings.”

“You’re supposed to be honest with the people you love,” Taako says, like a hypocrite. He’s not sure if he’s trying to hurt Kravitz or himself with the remark.

“Taako, love…” Kravitz closes his eyes and balls his hands into fists, not in anger, but in the way one does when they know there’s nothing to be done. Defeat. “I knew how much it would hurt you. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. That was wrong, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Taako looked away, staring at the opposite wall instead. It hurt less to look there. “How can you not think of me differently? How am I supposed to look at you? I’m the reason you died.”

“I know this isn’t going to be what you want to hear, but I’m trying this thing where I’m honest with the people I love.” Kravitz’s voice gains back a little of its usual lilt with the dry humor. Taako forces himself not to smile. “That day… I’ve never thought of it as my death.”

Taako starts to argue, but Kravitz puts a hand up. His expression is firm. Taako likes it a lot better than his guilty, docile face.

“That is the day my Queen took me into her service. She took my soul and made it something new, gave me purpose. The person I was before didn’t matter anymore because of her. I was her servant, and she made me feel whole.” Kravitz stops and smiles, his eyes far away. “It was… sublime. The small-town pianist was a speck of dust compared to my new being. I have always been faithful to my Queen, Taako. She gave me a place in the world. Maybe who I was died that day, but the me that I am now was created because of the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Taako furrows his brow and tries to sort through all the protests that spring to mind. Most of it amounts to a petulant voice that keeps insisting, But you died! He doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like he hasn’t listened at all.

Kravitz carefully takes Taako’s hands in his. Taako surprises himself by letting him. “I should’ve told you. But I never once blamed you, and I hope you can stop blaming yourself. I’m not dead, love. I’m a reaper.” Kravitz moves Taako’s hand to the side of his neck, where a warm pulse beats beneath the skin. It’s faint, and not quite as warm as a living human, but it seems to grow stronger and warmer under Taako’s touch. “Do you feel that? My heart started beating again when I fell in love with you. You’ve made me more alive than I’d ever been, even in Greensborough. I’m here, I like the being I am now, and I love you.”

“Did it hurt?” Taako feels tears that he thought were long gone start to well up. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t remember.” Kravitz cups Taako’s face with one hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb. His other hand stays holding Taako’s hand against his pulse. “I remember stepping in front of that child, and when the Raven Queen remade me, I always knew what happened, but I don’t remember the feeling.”

“What if I hurt you again?”

Kravitz has the gall to smirk a stupid, beautiful smirk. “I’m a big strong reaper. I can handle myself. And you’re a lot kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

Taako doesn’t even make the decision to lean forward and kiss Kravitz. It’s simply a fact that he must be kissing him right now. If he was just a little sappier, he’d say he could feel Istus pulling him into Kravitz’s embrace with her threads.

When they pull apart, it’s not more than an inch. Just enough for Taako to say, “I love you.”

Kravitz leans their foreheads together and Taako takes a long moment to enjoy the touch of Kravitz’s skin. Taako hums contently, then says, “You know Lup and Barold have definitely been listening in on this whole thing, yeah?”

“I figured.” Kravitz sounds just as blissfully unbothered as Taako feels.

“No, we haven’t!” Lup shouts from around the corner of the hallway.

Taako feels Kravitz’s laughter entwined with his own. Lup comes out of hiding with a smile and a respectfully-abashed Barry. “So, who wants dinner?”

Taako’s stomach growls as he remembers his pitiful eating habits today. “Sounds perfect, Lulu.”

As Lup heads into the kitchen and Barry awkwardly looks away to give them a semblance of privacy, Kravitz leans into Taako and says quietly, “Are you okay?”

“No.” Taako tucks his head into the crook of Kravitz’s neck. “But I’ve got you back, so that’s a start.” He only gets to enjoy a moment of peace.

“Taako, my dear brother whom I love with all my heart?” Lup calls from the kitchen, her voice light and airy in a way that means she’s about to lose it.

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck did you do to my kitchen?”

#taz balance #taako taaco #kravitz #taakitz #lup taaco #barry bluejeans #me stuffing a bunch of tangentially-related headcanons into a fic? its more likely than you think #this was supposed to be like four pages and its 25 what happened

[thievinghippo]

Fic Update: The Longest Distance (50/100)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Pairing: Barry Bluejeans/Lup Taaco

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Time is the longest distance between two places.” - Tennessee Williams. 100 cycles. 100 moments. How Barry and Lup’s relationship evolves over 100 years.

Chapter Summary: Barry needs to relax. Lup stays cool under pressure. Davenport has a decision to make. 

Notes: OMG we’ve reached the halfway point of the fic! <3

(Read on Ao3!)

#

Cycle Fifty

Davenport flips through the IPRE employee manual one last time, trying to make a decision.

In a perfect world, this little book would hold the answers to any situation that Davenport might come across. However, in a perfect world, this mission would have ended forty-nine years and some months ago.

He doesn’t care how many committees met in order to write this manual. None of the could ever come up with a situation like the one the crew of the Starblaster finds themselves in.

So really, the usual rules shouldn’t apply in this situation. At least that’s the justification Davenport’s using to make himself feel better. Rules and regulations keep this mission going. Keeps everything running smoothly.

And now two of his crew are flaunting those rules.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Standing in the doorway of his office is Barry, hands deep in his pockets. Lup is next to him, resting her forearm on Barry’s shoulder. Davenport gestures them inside. “Thank you for being here,” he says.

Barry nods, visibly nervous, There’s a slight sheen on his forehead and he’s swallowing far too much. Lup, on the other hand, looks cool as a cucumber. “Everything okay?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly.

“Babe, you really need to chill,” Lup says.

“Please sit down,” Davenport says. “We’re just going to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, okay,” Barry says, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Davenport’s desk. He grips the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles start going white. Lup sits in the other, draping one leg over the arm of the chair.

“Breathe, Bluejeans. That’s an order.”

“It’s just, we’ve had plenty of conversations over the years, you know? But none of them involved sitting in your office,” Barry says as he takes off his glasses and wipes his forehead. “What’d I do wrong?”

“You really need to stop assuming you’ve done something wrong if someone wants to talk to you,” Lup says, patting Barry on the hand.

“You have done nothing wrong,” Davenport says, putting his hand on his desk. Technically not true, but if he opens the conversation with that, Barry might have a heart attack. “I wanted to talk to you two about your relationship.”

Lup throws back her head and laughs. “Coming straight to the source for the goods, huh? Ship’s gossip not good enough?”

Davenport smiles and pushes the IPRE employee handbook across the desk. His desk was specifically made for gnomes, so they look down at him a bit. But he doesn’t mind. He may be the captain of the Starblaster, but after fifty years, basically everyone’s equal to everyone else.

“Do you remember signing this back in our home plane?”

Lup picks up the handbook. “This is like a relic now,” she says, flipping through the pages.

“Feels like it was forever ago,” Barry says, leaning over towards Lup.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Davenport says, keeping his voice matter-of-fact. “Relationships between crew members is strictly forbidden.” 

Barry’s jaw drops. Literally drops like in a story. “Are you telling me you want me and Lup to end things?”

Lup slides the handbook back across the desk. “Cap’n Port…” she says, her voice trailing off.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Davenport says, holding his hands up in mock self-defense. “We just need to discuss a couple of things.”

There’s a tension in the office now, a tension that Davenport completely understands. He might not be well-versed in love or relationships, but even he can tell how much the two people across from him care about each other.

And as much as he’d like them to be able to go off and live happily ever after, Davenport’s got to look at the bigger picture. Mainly figuring out a way to defeat the Hunger and maybe even try to find a way back home, if it’s even there anymore.

“I worry that your feelings for each other could compromise the mission,” Davenport says.

“Nah,” Lup says at once. “Won’t be an issue.”

“You sound quite certain of that,” Davenport says, folding his hands one over the other.

“I mean, it’d be pretty different if we didn’t have the reset button, but I’d be cool if Barry had to leave me behind to make sure the Starblaster got out,” Lup says with a shrug.

Barry clears his throat, looking not quite as uncomfortable as he did when he entered the office. “I’d want Lup to leave me behind to save herself, absolutely,” he says.

“We’ll figure out a way to get out together,” Lup says, reaching over and patting Barry’s knee.

Davenport gets the distinct impression that the conversation has moved away from him. And now that they’re here in his office, he can’t quite remember what he wanted to accomplish in the first place.

“Captain?” Barry asks, raising up his hand slightly. “I’d do the same for any of you. It doesn’t matter who. I’d tell any of you to leave me behind. Really. At this point, I care about everyone on this boat.”

A weird sort of warmth pools in Davenport’s stomach. Even after fifty years, he’s always felt the need to keep a bit of distance from the crew, so that he could be seen as their captain. Doesn’t help that most of the crew is far younger than him, except for Merle.

So to hear Barry say he cares, well, turns out that means a lot to him. He won’t let it show, though. Maybe someday, if this mission ever ends. Maybe then he can let his guard down.

“But you care about me differently,” Lup says with a smirk.

“Well, yeah,” Barry says, his cheeks reddening. “Obviously.”

“Well, thank you for that, Barry,” Davenport says. He stands up and rest his hands on the desk in front of him. “This is what, the third cycle since the conservatory? I haven’t seen any cause for alarm yet, and I’ll trust you two to keep it that way.”

“Definitely,” Barry says at the same time Lup gives off a salute.

“We’ll be no trouble, Cap’n Port. Promise,” Lup says.

“I know you too well to believe that, Lup,” Davenport says with a smile. “But I trust both of you with my life and more importantly,” He pats the wall, “with this ship.”

Barry lets out a deep breath and reaches out for Lup’s hand. “Thank you, Davenport,” he says. “That means a lot.”

“Ditto,” Lup says, taking Barry’s hand. “Now we free to skedaddle? We were in the middle of an experiment.”

“Oh,” Davenport says. He didn’t realize. “Yes, go. Go do whatever it is you were working on.”

Lup beams at him and that warmth comes back. She really just has a way of making everyone feel like the center of the universe. “Toodles,” she says as she stands up.

Without another word, Barry and Lup leave his office. Davenport picks up the discarded IPRE employee manual off his desk and shoves it into one of his desk drawers without a second thought.

The Starblaster crew doesn’t need a manual. They have each other.

#the adventure zone #the adventure zone: balance #barry bluejeans #lup taaco #blupjeans #hippo writes fanfiction #the longest distance

[theadventurezone]

On The Adventure Zone Graphic Novel, Blue Taako, and Representation

 Yesterday, we revealed some pages for our graphic novel adaptation of the first Adventure Zone arc, and received some criticism of the direction we went with for Taako’s coloring. This artwork reveal came some months after the first reveal of some of our characters, for which we also received criticism of our three leads, all of whom were white in these initial designs. Us and the graphic novel team realized that, yes, that is extremely bad, went back to the drawing board, and had several long discussions about how to best rectify this situation, resulting in the artwork revealed yesterday.

More or less all of the criticism we’ve received centers on Taako, whose skin is a pale blue color in these designs. What we’ve heard most is disappointment that Taako is not realized in these pages as a person of color — or, to be more specific, a Latinx or explicitly Mexican character. There was concern we had failed to follow through on an opportunity to get better representation for Latinx listeners, instead opting to take a safe route, and make Taako a fantasy color without any kind of real-world connection. Much of the criticism also focuses on how that color (or, to be more specific, green skin) has anti-semitic connotations.

This conversation was happening in certain corners of our fandom long before the graphic novel art reveal took place yesterday. We’ve heard criticism from some folks over our policy of not having canonical visual representations of any of our characters — a policy that has resulted in a genuinely humbling ocean of fan art, but also some instances of in-fighting between members of the community who take umbrage with one another’s disparate interpretations of these characters. Another criticism of that policy is that it inherently does not foster good representation, and in fact represents a noncommittal way of handling racial representation on this show.

Here’s the truth of the matter: I think all of this comes from this underlying friction between where The Adventure Zone and us, its creators, were when we started doing the podcast, and where we, the show, and you, the community, are at now. 

Justin once described the show as a “car that learned how to fly,” which I think is an accurate way of describing this friction.

When we started, we did not consider the fact that folks would relate to these characters, or would care about what they looked like, or if they looked like them, or anything along those lines. We did not prioritize representation because we did not even think of it as being something we would need to prioritize. Part of that I can lay at the feet of the fact that The Adventure Zone started as a one-off filler episode of MBMBaM that we published while Justin was on paternity leave — we didn’t have that conversation because we didn’t think this show would be a show. But the larger reason is that the four of us are all white dudes, and have never had to think about our representation in media our entire lives.

I don’t take that shortcoming lightly, and I don’t expect anyone else to, either. There are so many things I would change if I could start over — some narrative loopholes, some shitty and thoughtless tropes — but this would be the largest one. If we had known what this show would become, we would have been more thoughtful about representation when we first made these characters. Instead, we didn’t consider what they would look like beyond what it said on these pre-rolled character sheets. We didn’t consider race beyond deciding whether Halflings, Elves, Tieflings or Dwarves possessed the best passive abilities.

Doing this show has educated all of us about representation, and clearly, we’re still not great at it. But starting out, it wasn’t even an afterthought — it just wasn’t a thought, because we didn’t know it was a thing to think about. Now we know, and the difficulties involved with reconciling where we started with what we now know are, simply put, monumental. 

Justin named his character Taako, the joke being that this name sounds like “taco,” and that he would be pursuing a quest to invent tacos in this fantasy world. Justin thought of this name as a big and goofy joke several minutes before we started recording. The weight of that naming decision — that the decision could even have weight — did not enter his mind. This was a goofy one-off episode. He named his wizard Taako for the same reason that I named my Dwarven Cleric in the one-off D&D videos I’ve done at Polygon “Crag T’Nelson.”

Knowing the strife it’s caused, Justin wouldn’t have named this character Taako. In his own words:

“It was, in actuality, a dumb thing to do, compounded by the spur of the moment joke that Taako’s quest was to invent the taco. That was stupid, because the taco was invented by Mexican silver miners and not a wizard who, in the first episode, I claim hailed from “New Elfington.

“It was a spur of the moment goof, but one that I’ve felt consistently guilty about, on some level, for years. I never intended to be dismissive of a group, or a heritage, but that’s exactly what I did.”

This is the position we are in now, and have been in since the show started, and it is irreconcilable because of the decisions we made when we started doing this show: There are listeners and fans who want us to, in pursuit of better representation, make Taako a canonically Latinx or Mexican character. The result of that decision would be that Justin had made a Mexican character that he named after tacos, whose quest was to make a taco, and who spent the first half of the campaign stealing everything that wasn’t nailed to the ground.

That’s an oversimplified way of describing this inherently complicated problem. We have listeners who have no problem with Taako being a Mexican character named after tacos, as created by a white man. We have listeners who do have issues with that interpretation, and I can only imagine how a decision like that would read to someone who just picked this graphic novel up off a shelf at their local shop. We feel immensely uncomfortable with the idea of retroactively declaring Taako a member of any particular real-world group without factoring in that identity at all points while playing the game, viewing each action taken through a lens that has to be the first and last thing we would consider.

This was the stuff we and the graphic novel team considered while weighing the character designs, and deliberations were fucking tough. Where we landed was that, since Merle was canonically a Beach Dwarf, it made all kinds of sense for him to have darker skin. After wrestling with the above considerations, we landed on a look that felt right for Taako, which was based on a look that had started to become more popular among the fan art community for the show, in which he was drawn with green skin.

This was a while ago, and before the pushback against green Taako really kicked off. The historical basis for these claims are kind of speculative, but we took them seriously, and, in an effort to avoid running foul of them, went with more of a pale blue hue.

Yesterday, we learned there’s a High Elf variant in the PHB — which, clearly, we didn’t read that carefully when we started — called the Moon Elf that has those features. There’s also a Sun Elf variant that has “bronze skin and hair of copper, black, or golden blond,” which we also didn’t know about. (Though we’ve gotten lots of criticism saying that Taako’s original pre-made character sheet said he was a Sun Elf, and that we willfully ignored that canon aspect of his character, none of which is remotely true.)

Yesterday, after all this went down, we were all on the phone for hours, trying to figure out what to do. Our original line of thinking hadn’t changed: Making Taako Latinx means that Justin would have made a Mexican wizard that he named after tacos — which, from our perspective, isn’t great — who he then played without any consideration for the cultural ramifications of that identity. We got in the weeds a bit: Could we just make him a Sun Elf, and make him look closer to what the folks who are leveraging these criticisms want him to look, without addressing the specific real-world cultural identity that they want him to fill? Or is that a chicken shit half measure, and would do more harm than good?

That’s where we’re at today. There’s not an easy solution. There just isn’t. We have fans who want us to do better, to have more diversity in the three main characters of this book. But those characters were created and played by white people who didn’t consider the ramifications of their every action when viewed through a specific cultural lens while playing. Yesterday, we heard from folks who said it was problematic that we made Merle brown, considering that he has a backstory where he was, more or less, a deadbeat dad. That’s a harsh boiling down of the character, but the criticism absolutely has merit. We didn’t think of that when we decided on Merle’s new design. But it’s kind of exactly what I’m talking about here: If the Taako in this graphic novel had dark skin, how many similar criticisms could be laid at his feet? If we gave Magnus dark skin, and then he spent the campaign being the more physical, more aggressive, less intellectual member of his team, there are issues there, too. Is any of that good representation? 

I’m not pitching these possibilities to be snide — I genuinely am not. But these are the things we’ve been struggling with since we decided to do this graphic novel. Our policy hasn’t changed — we still don’t consider any visual representations of these characters to be canon, and never will — but we also understand that this an insufficient way of responding to these criticisms.

The solution the whole team landed on for this graphic novel is imperfect. It has disappointed some people, and it is going to continue to disappoint some people. But there is no non-disappointing solution. And that’s not First Second’s fault, and it certainly isn’t Carey’s fault. It is completely because of the rock and a hard place that we’re positioned between, and all because of our failure to establish a solid foundation for these characters and their identities when we started this show. And for that, we’re so, earnestly, deeply sorry.

We’ve all felt fucking miserable since all of this happened yesterday, and not because of the criticism coming in, but because the folks offering that criticism feel unheard, ignored and hurt. I promise you, we did not ignore that criticism — we tried to do our best in a scenario without a perfect solution. That does not change the fact that this show is what it is because of the feedback our listeners have given us, full stop. It has made this project better, and us better, and all I can promise is that we’ll keep trying our hardest to do, and be, better.

[trustlup]

do you have any other polyblaster hcs?? that concept is?? so incredibly blessed

it’s actually a Huge thing for me and @starsshinedarkly77 (we’re both poly and project ya) and i’ll throw them under a cut because it’s Long and i know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and mentions some NSFW

so uh first a lot of how it all starts 

like? ? it’s relatively kinda easy how a lot of the relationships form like it’s just a need for sex or any sort of intimacy esp during this horrific experience they all need comfort and yeah there’s crushes getting thrown around too but for the beginning and i’m saying mostly around mags and lu it’s just a need for release and relaxing 

lup and mags are actually the first two who get together just, like purely out of they’re dicking around joking and like damn i’m so fucking horny lol and they just kinda look at each other like oh. oh hell yeah. and needless to say they go down on each other in the gym 

like i’m not sure if romantic feelings ever get thrown between the two (or if mags ever feels too romantically for any of ipre) but they both have such an intense and pure love for each other that just happens so quick that everyone’s like, oh, sweet, thanks for getting the bond engine this week

granted they’re also hell kids because they fuck too much (hi this is my monthly promo for hypersexual lup and mags thanks) and if they’re both missing and someone in ipre has to find them there’s a kinda nose goes because they have no shame

a lot of the relationships form from simply. someone wants to be held and sometimes it’s nice to be held by the same person multiple times. 

and i think that’s why barry starts going to mags–just hesitant because he’s not exactly sure how him and lup are but like, he just fucking needs contact and mags is like lol dude lets hug it out and they just start cuddling and then lup needs in because she wants to cuddle him too and that’s how barry ends up in between them and it’s just.. so nice (they also have sex because uh needs) 

the crush between barry and lup is,, glaringly obvious and mags i s like,, uh ya gonna go for it or what and they’re both  uh yeah of course but they don’t 

taako like, is chill for a good amount of time, he really does not wanna fucking touch that group because that’s so much drama just waiting to happen (hint: it isn’t) 

until, he gets, touch starved to hell and wants to be wanted so fucking bad and surprise surprise mags is like yo you are so fucking hot and taako just preens under his praise like fine, i guess I’ll be With you

i mean i could write an entire 5000 word essay on lupcret about how they get together but it is a huge mutual crush until they get together and they’re just,, love,, they’re definitely the first romantic relationship on the ship

sweet young lucretia has a compulsive heterosexuality crush on mags because uh?? everyone is attracted to him?? so i am too?? he is objectively hot?? and she tries to have a threesome with him and lup and she’s like nope nope i ‘m a lesbian thank s

but her and lup just have a very very sweet and dependable love after trying to isolate herself from lup and lup is like, no i love you, i want to be with you, and lucretia just cries she’s so happy and forehead touching is a HUGE thing of theirs just a thing of i will hold you through everything, you are my love, don’t worry just look at me

merle and dav have nearly the longest slowburn that everyone else on the ship snicker like just fuck like the rest of us

it’s actually…surprisingly sweet and they go through the whole dating shebang and they’re kinda quiet about their relationship until one day davenport proposes and merle fucking loses it and tells everyone about HIS HUSBAND ISN”T HE BEAUTIFUL and dav is like it was nice trying to keep it quiet

ok now into more just hc:

cuddle piles and somehow all of them manage to fit onto one couch like lup and taako will just be sitting there already folded into each other and magnus will come up and lift them just a bit so that they can be on his lap  and then barry sits behind magnus somehow and lucretia is behind lup and if merle behaves he can also be on there but davenport only rarely joins the couch because it gets hot as hell and he doesn’t want the sweat

a fight breaks out about who is better taako or lup in bed and magnus and barry are put on trial and it’s a full cycle fight until they split up what they are better at  and it’s a complete cop out and taako and lup are pissed at them (luc is toted around on lup’s lap as the only beloved)

there’s a constant fear of entering the kitchen because whatever twin that is working in the kitchen will often require a kiss for access to the which,, dissolves to make outs or more,

there isn’t a single clean and pure surface by cycle 10 

there’s a lot of uncomfortable fisting jokes because no one knows if it’s true or not who has . been . fisted. (hint: only one of them)

the bonds between them get very very strong after a while because after so much trauma they just need each other, they’ve seen each other die and they love each other so much it just hurts so much to see each other hurting

magnus loves sitting on lup’s lap

magnus ends up having a huge fling one cycle with a local girl and it ends in him getting betrayed because he was just a big meat bag and she needed him to kill someone (and uses blood magic to make him) and it’s . bad. but thankfully in the next cycle he has the support of them and it’s a huge character growth thing for him

people bake favors for the twins so. much. to try and gain favor and just to do something nice. mags and lucretia often team up to make something nice for lup. 

and vice versa the twins are known for gifting pies as apologies

mags has a huge habit of telling everyone that they’re the most beautiful people he’s ever met and that he loves them dearly and he wants them to know how much he treasures them and it’s so fucking earnest and beautiful that they all make a pact to love him deeply

no one sleeps alone after a certain point, the trauma of everything just gets to them and they need the comfort, some nights involve the main five all together

someone ask me about the time mags and lup find barry’s dildo 

there’s a lot of kissing, platonic and otherwise, it just becomes so normal to kiss each other on the foreheads and lucretia is notorious for kissing on the shoulder, just a quick peck 

h o l d i n g h a n d s

magnus has a habit of holding someone’s hand and bring their hand up to his mouth to kiss it

magnus has bandanas that each one of them wear as almost “tokens” of “courting” him

lup wears her in a ponytail or around her head, taako does the same plus around his thigh or ankle, barry wears his around his neck arm or forehead, it takes a bit of coercing but eventually lucretia takes one despite being a “only friends lover” and wears it on her ankle 

barry is the best at dancing and it drives all of them crazy 

there’s a lot of bets and competitions that go around and i couldn’t name them all but the one me and ssd were talking about recently was who can get mags off the quickest so Yeah

i uh, could go on but yeah you get the idea, i really like the polyblaster, basically they’re all very intimate and close to each other regardless of romantic or not

#paz.replies #oofa doofa #this is a lot #nsfw/ #obv this contains a lot of non canon ships so if that's not your thing #don't read #they just all love each other and are intimate with each other #Anonymous

[twdeadfanfic]

It’s a dog’s life Pt.9

*Summary: The reader is new and alone at the quarry’s camp, the only one she has is her dog, who seems to be best friends with Daryl Dixon, a not so friendly man, but that friendship will bring the reader closer to Daryl, finding that there’s more to Daryl than what you can see at first glance…besides, he’s pretty hot at first glance, isn’t him?

*Slow burn, both reader and Daryl’s pov, violence and language twd style.Follows the events of season 1 and 2.

*4044 words

*Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapters: 9/14

*Link to my masterlist with my other works can be found on the description of this blog. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags

Last chapter Daryl got hurt looking for Sophia when the horse threw him. Luckily, he has the reader and the dog to look over him.

............................................................

Dinner was awkward to say the less.

When you arrived everyone was already dinning and you went to sit down in a smaller table with Glenn, Maggie and her sister, and the guy you thought was the younger Greene’s boyfriend. You made sure your seat has its back to Hershel, you were grateful he had helped Daryl but you didn’t feel like talking to him or having him scold you or anything.

“Dad says he’ll be alright,” Maggie told you quietly.

“Yeah…” You nodded, giving her a grateful smile. “He’s pretty banged up, though.”

The only highlight of the tense dinner was when Glenn and Maggie began passing notes to each other under the table, not as subtly as Glenn probably thought he was being. Beth and you looked at each other, smirking.

Once dinner was over you helped clean the table and headed back to check on Daryl. Carol had gone to bring him some dinner and you arrived at the same time she walked out of the room.

“He’s awake. Your dog won’t leave his side.” She told you.

“Probably he’s begging him for food now and Daryl’ll give him half his dinner.” You couldn’t help your small, fond smile.

“He has a good heart.” Carol nodded, smiling, though her eyes watered. “Ended up like that looking for my little girl.”

You reached out to take her hand. “He told us where he found the doll, we’ll check it tomorrow.”

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt on this search…” She said weakly, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“We won’t. We’ll be more careful. Promise.”

Carol said nothing to that, she gave your hand a squeeze and walked away.

You walked into the room and saw Daryl propped up against the headboard with some pillows. On one side he had the trail with his dinner and at the other was Cole, to whom Daryl was giving some of the food. You shook your head, smiling. You knew it.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, sitting down next to Cole. Daryl shrugged. You knew he must be hurting but you felt he wouldn’t say it aloud.

You stayed silent while he ate his dinner, wondering if you should leave him alone. Maybe he didn’t want the company. When he finished his dinner you took the tray and got up to take it to the kitchen. "You should rest.”

“I’m bored of it already.” He grumbled.

“I could stay for a bit if you want.” You offered tentatively. Daryl looked at you for a second before averting his eyes again and finally he nodded once. You left the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. “I can gossip about Glenn and Maggie.” Daryl shrugged and you didn’t say anything else.

“What about them? “He finally said and you smirked.

"There’s something going on between them. Pretty sure right now they’re getting busy with each other in the barn.”

“Hershel must be happy.” Daryl and you chuckled quietly.

“I bet.”

Silence fell between you two for a little while. Daryl shifted to lie down on the bed, wincing and letting out a soft whimper, and he curled onto his good side, his back to you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from asking him if he hurt. It was obvious he did and it would only make him grumpy.

“I dreamed with Merle,” Daryl whispered. “I hallucinated him when I was out there. And now I dreamed with him, about when we were kids.”

“Was it a good dream?” You asked softly.

“Nah. But  I liked seeing him.”

Daryl had loved Merle, no matter what, and he missed him. Your heart ached for him and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. Daryl stiffed at the contact before relaxing again.

“It wasn’t long after my mother died.” Daryl surprised you by talking about his dream. “Merle was mad at me cos I was a little idiot and I’d told him maybe mum wasn’t dead cos I hadn’t seen her...I was dumb like that when I was little..” If you’d thought your heart couldn’t hurt more for Daryl, you’d been wrong. You still had your hand on his shoulder and you began to brush your fingers over his skin ever so slightly, but Daryl stiffed again and you stopped.

“And Merle left and I don’t know where he went or what he did but he ended up in juvie. And when dad came he was so angry, he always was, angry and drunk. Took it out on me, since Merle wasn’t around. Was a walker in the dream, the damn bastard, only good thing.” Daryl spat, shaking slightly, you weren’t sure if in anger or something else.

You couldn’t find the right words and so you stayed silent. Putting two and two together, you already suspected Daryl’s childhood hadn’t been a dream one, but you were heartbroken by what he was telling you. You wanted to punch his asshole of a father and make him go down to his knees and apologize to Daryl.

You wanted to curl up next to Daryl, wrap your arms around him and hold him close. Hope it’d bring him some comfort. But you knew Daryl and you weren’t certain you’d be welcome, probably you’d make him uncomfortable and angry. Still, you couldn’t help but lean over to kiss his shoulder softly, above one of the scars. Daryl tensed, flinching slightly, and you heard him gasping softly. “Sorry.” You whispered, pulling back.

“Merle...the one that I hallucinated...told me none but him cares about me...and he’s not around anymore, so...” Daryl began talking quietly again.

“That’s bullshit, and Merle knows it, all the Merles, the real, the hallucinated and the one from dreamland!” You were upset thinking Daryl might be feeling like that on top of everything. “And you know it, right?”

Daryl just shrugged. “It ain’t like nobody likes me much. Redneck trash, I know that’s what they think.”

“Hey, don’t say that, they don’t think that.” Maybe they had thought like that but now you thought they were starting to see Daryl’s value. “And I care about you, alright? Both Cole and I. And Carol, she’s worried about you, she cares. We do. So don’t speak like that.”

“Carol said I’m a good man...” Daryl murmured quietly, turning to lie on his back.

“You are.” You assured him, glad Carol had told him something like that, you hoped it’d help him believe it. He didn’t say anything else, though.

You reached out to take his hand but stopped, you didn’t want to push his boundaries more and make him uncomfortable. It seemed Daryl noticed, and slowly he began to inch his hand closer to yours but stopped before touching it. You smiled softly, and placed your hand on his, lacing your fingers when he didn’t flinch.

“Don’t know what hurts more, getting shot an arrow or a bullet...” Daryl groaned, closing his eyes. “I think the arrow’s winning.” You could bet, after all the bullet had graced him while the arrow had pierced through his side. You didn’t want to think of how close he had been to die.

“And falling down a ravine didn’t make it better, did it?” You added, he didn’t complain but probably every one of his bones and muscles were screaming to him.

“Not much.” Daryl chuckled softly, wincing as he did so.

“You gotta be more careful, you told me to be careful and you end like this...you scared me...” You said quietly.

“Ain’t my fault the damn horse threw me,” Daryl grumbled.

“I know.” You began to trace soft circles over his knuckles with your thumb. You still felt guilty.

“I’ll only ride bikes for now on.”

“You’ve been riding for long?”

“Since I was big enough to do it without falling down, was in a club with Merle.”

“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle…you gotta give me a ride sometime.”

“Alright…when we find Sophia.”

“And Hershel kicks us out of here.” You chuckled humorlessly.

“He’s gonna kick us out?” Daryl opened his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know but he’s not happy with us…” You let out a guilty sigh. “Maggie’s trying to convince him otherwise, though…she better manages if she wants to keep Glenn around.”

Daryl just hummed, seeming thoughtful. Merle’s words, or rather Daryl’s thoughts must still be troubling him, and he was obviously worried about still not having found Sophia, and now you had added the possibility of having to leave the Greene’s farm in not too long. You wished you could make him feel a bit better or at least less down, to take his mind away from the pain and worry.

“Only good thing about this is that I got to see you without your shirt on.” You dared to joke, Daryl seemed more down than you’d ever seen him and it made your heart hurt, so if at least you could turn him flustered and have him thinking in something else, you would. “I still think you’re pretty hot and I’m not drunk.”

“What?”  Daryl looked at you with wide, shocked eyes, snapping his hand from yours as if you had burnt him. You smiled when you saw the adorable blush that spread through his cheeks, you still couldn’t believe he got so flustered with stuff like that, but you loved it. “Stop it.” He grumbled, frowning.

“Okay, okay.” You chuckled softly, smiling to him, and Daryl seemed to relax a bit, or maybe he was too tired to snap. He looked beat. “Close those pretty eyes and sleep, you need it.” You had to bit your lip so as not to laugh when Daryl blushed even more, grumbling something you didn’t catch as he curled onto his side, but he did close his pretty eyes.

You got up and looked at Cole, who had been curled up at Daryl’s feet but that scooted closer to his side now that you’d moved. “What do you wanna do, Cole?”

“He can stay if he wants…”

Daryl shifted so he could run his fingers through Cole’s hair and you had to stop yourself from smiling. Of course if you asked Daryl if he wanted Cole to stay with him he’d say he didn’t care, but you knew better. He was hurting and weak, and maybe Cole could bring him some comfort. You were worried your dog may want to get up at some point and go looking for you, though, waking Daryl. And if he didn’t find you around and was in a house he didn’t know, he might get anxious.

Cole shifted even closer until his head was on Daryl’s lap and he looked at him with worried eyes. It reminded you to when you got that horrible flu years ago and Cole was always with you in bed, keeping you warm and comforted. Maybe he could stay with Daryl and you could leave the door a bit open in case he wanted to get out, and maybe you could curl up in one of the sofas so Cole’d find you easily…though Hershel might not be too happy about that, but after all Lori was staying with Carl…

“Alright you two, enjoy finally having a real bed.” You scratched Cole behind the ears. “Lucky you.”

“Shoot yourself an arrow too so you end up in one if you want it so much.” Daryl joked darkly.

“Mean.”

He gave you a crooked smile and you smiled back before wishing him a good night and leaving the room.

You found Maggie sitting down on a sofa, her elbows rested on her knees and her face hidden on her hands, seeming worried.

“You okay?”

Maggie looked up at you and nodded, not seeming very convincing.

“Thought you would be having fun with Glenn…”

“Yeah…not that much fun…”

“You two had an argument or something?” You sat down next to her and Maggie groaned.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to sleep in there or what.” Maggie nodded towards the bedroom.

“Told you, he isn’t my boyfriend or anything. He rather snuggles with my dog.” You joked and Maggie snorted quietly. “I was wondering if maybe I could sleep in one of the sofas…if that’d be alright.”

“Okay, that way you’ll be around if he needs anything. Patricia is a good woman but she’s not really in the mood to be a nurse for all of you after…well…” Maggie trailed off. Yes, after her husband died to bring the supplies Carl needed…

“Thanks.” That’s all you could awkwardly say. “And also…would it be alright if I take a horse again tomorrow to look for Sophia? We have a lead on where she might be.”

“Okay.” Maggie nodded again. “I can go with you if you want.”

“That’d be really good, thank you.” You weren’t sure of how many of your people would be joining you.

“Alright, good night then, see you in the morning.”

“Night.”

Maggie gave you a tense smile and left. You curled up on the sofa, closed your eyes, and tried to sleep.

*

When you woke up it was dark around you, but a glance at the clock on the wall, which surprisingly still worked, told you the sun would come up soon. You got up, stretched and walked to the window. You could see the sky at the east beginning to clear. You had to admit it, the farm and its surroundings were beautiful, almost as if the world around them hadn’t gone to hell. How you wished Hershel would allow you all to stay. You turned around when you heard soft footsteps approaching and found Cole waggling his tail at you.

“Good morning. Glad to see you haven’t forgotten about me.” You patted Cole’s head and scratched him behind the ears. You walked to Daryl’s room and peered inside from the slightly open door. It was dark inside and you couldn’t hear any movement, so you thought he was still asleep and you closed the door so he could sleep undisturbed for a little longer.

Maggie walked down the stairs, seeming half asleep still. “Morning.” She rasped. “Want some tea or coffee? There’s still some left.”

“That’d be so good, thank you.” You followed her into the kitchen and helped her make breakfast. You ate in silence, Maggie seeming as lost in thought as you.

“I’m gonna bring Daryl some breakfast before we leave.” You told her as you got a tray ready.

“Okay, he has to take the antibiotics too.” Maggie instructed.

When you walked into the dark room, though, Daryl was still asleep and you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He had to rest. You placed the tray on the nightstand and also the box of antibiotics. You were sure Carol would come to check on Daryl later and she’d remind him to eat and take the pills.

You glanced at Daryl again. You could barely make his features in the dark but you thought he still seemed weak. Hershel had said he’d recover nice but you didn’t think you’d stop worrying until he got up from the bed. Leaning over, you brushed your knuckles over his cheekbone ever so slightly, realizing once again how much you had come to care for him. Daryl’s eyes blinked open at that and he looked at you drowsily and confused. Damn it. You hadn’t meant to wake him.

“Hey, go back to sleep.” You whispered.

“Sophia?” Daryl muttered, seeming not totally awake.

“I’m going to look for her now.”

“Alone?”

“No, Maggie’s coming too. Come on, go back to sleep.” You could see Daryl was fighting to keep his eyes open. “I brought you some breakfast if you wake up hungry, you have to eat and also take your antibiotics.”

“Alright.” Daryl mumbled and his eyes closed again.

In the end Rick joined you too, you guessed he felt like you all weren’t doing enough, and also Andrea, she felt guilty for having shot Daryl. Taking all the horses besides the one that had thrown Daryl, you all rode to where Daryl had found the doll. You found nothing besides some dead walkers, but no sight of Sophia. It’d be so useful to know how to track like Daryl, so you could follow the little girl’s trail, but not even Rick could find her trail. He decided it was best to split up in pairs and look around the area, and so he went with Andrea and you went with Maggie.

“I don’t know why I keep going out looking for Sophia, I can’t track for shit, she could be here and I wouldn’t find her.” You complained.

“Come on, we’re doing our best…” Maggie kicked your foot from her horse.

After hours of searching without finding anything, it was hard to stay hopeful. Cole sniffed bushes from time to time, but you didn’t think he was following any trail. You could only hope Rick and Andrea were having more luck. You found it a bit strange that Glenn hadn’t decided to join Maggie, maybe they’d really had an argument. You didn’t want to ask, though, didn’t want to upset Maggie more or make her angry.

“Did you talk with your father about letting us stay?” You asked her.

“Didn’t have the chance…”

“He can’t send us away Maggie, he can’t.” You stopped your horse to look at her seriously. “You don’t know how that is, you haven’t seen it. There’s no safe place, they’re everywhere.” You swallowed hard, trying not to let your emotions overcome you. “There’s nothing left, we came from the CDC and the doctor there told us there’s no cure, nothing, everything’s gone, and then he almost made us blow up. I don’t know where we could go, I don’t know where we could be safe, and looking for a place like that we ended up stuck on a road with a herd of monsters and we lost a little girl, and Carl got shot, and now Daryl’s hurt too…we can’t leave, we can’t go back to that…”

“Hey, hey, stop.” Maggie nudged your foot again. “I’m going to try okay…I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Okay, okay, thank you…sorry I just exploded...” You tried to get a hold of yourself, embarrassed. You hadn’t realized everything you’d been bottling in.

“It’s ok…” Maggie gave you a small smile. “Come on, let’s see if the others had had more luck.”

They hadn’t, and you all rode back to camp in silence, a feeling of defeat over all of you. Carol was sat down in front of the RV, Sophia’s doll on her lap, and she looked at you when she saw you had come back. You dropped your gaze, unable to look at her.

“I can go to talk to her.” Rick offered.

“No, no I’ll go…” Taking a deep breath, you walked purposely towards Carol, or as purposely as you could.

“Nothing?” Carol asked you weakly.

“I’ll try again tomorrow…”

Carol nodded once and looked down as if trying to control her emotions. “It’s okay, thank you.” Cole whined and head-butted Carol’s hand until she patted his head.

“You want to see Daryl, uh?” She murmured to your dog before looking up to you. Her eyes were wet but you knew she was trying to stay strong. “He’s better I think, or at least more awake. Meaning he’s all bored and cranky. I made him eat and stay in bed.” She gave you a weak smile.

“He’s gonna be so angry when he knows we didn’t find her…” You let out a sigh.

“You’re doing everything you can, and for that I’m grateful.” Carol swallowed hard as if trying her best not to cry. “Come on, get your dog to see Daryl, keep him company.”

*

Daryl was sick of being on that bed, doing nothing. He should be out with Y/N, tracking Sophia. She had been gone for hours and she still wasn’t back, Daryl needed to know if she had found the little girl or not. She couldn’t be far from when he found her doll. But Daryl wasn’t delusional enough to think he could have gone with Y/N, just shifting in the bed hurt, pain shooting through his side, and sometimes when he moved his head he still felt dizzy.

Hershel had gone to check on him, saying he was doing well even though Daryl hurt everywhere. He had removed the bandaged that he’d wrapped around his head, saying the wound would heal better that way though Daryl must keep it clean.

Carol had come to visit him too, bringing him food and sitting down on a chair to keep him company. At first Daryl had snapped at her and he had regretted it almost instantly, but Carol hadn’t gotten angry. She’d called his bullshit, though, but she had stayed with him nonetheless.

She had been telling him things about Sophia, and Daryl’d felt like someone was punching him when he saw how much Carol was hurting, but he couldn’t find words of comfort. Couldn’t find Sophia, either. He didn’t know why Carol even talked to him, she really seemed to care for him as Y/N had said, no matter Daryl came back day after day without having found her little girl. Carol always had a thank you and a smile for him.

Daryl had never understood why Y/N had decided to become his friend, and now neither did he understand why Carol seemed to have decided it too. Either way, if he said he didn’t enjoy the company of the woman, he’d be lying.

Carol had told him not only Maggie had gone with Y/N and Cole to look for Sophia but also Rick and Andrea, as if she could read his mind and she knew he’d worried about Y/N going alone and something happening to her and the dog, after walkers almost ate him.

There was a knock on his door and then Y/N and the dog walked in. Daryl found himself smiling, though it turned into a wince when Cole jumped onto the bed, trying to lick his face, until he calmed down and lied next to him.

“Sorry.” Y/N chuckled, giving him an apologetic smile. “You look better.”

“Feel like shit still.”

Somehow Daryl felt he could tell her that and she wouldn’t judge him, she wouldn’t think him weak. She had been at his side when the doctor patched him up and then she’d been keeping him company during most part of the night. He’d felt so weak and so stupid, wanting her close, holding her hand even, but he couldn’t help it. Everything hurt and he felt like shit, but Y/N and Cole made it better. She had been teasing him again, though, but Daryl had learned not to take that too seriously, even though it embarrassed him and made his pulse speed up at the same time.

He hadn’t been able to stop the funny twirls in his stomach at her words, the same that he got sometimes when she was around, or the way in which his heart skipped a beat when she had kissed his shoulder. He still felt he was being an idiot most of the time when she was around…but it didn’t seem to matter, he knew he didn’t want to push her away.

She had been so worried about him, Daryl couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think someone had worried like that about him, ever. It had made him feel warm and cared for, something he wasn’t used to but that now, with Y/N, the dog and also Carol around, he seemed to feel more often than not. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Y/N sat down on the bed next to him but looked down and away from him, her face dark. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but she closed it again. She didn’t need to speak, Daryl knew what she was going to say.

“We’ll find her.”

Daryl assured her, his hand moving to hold hers almost of its own accord.

..........

Well, not much happened but we had some fluff, some talking, a bit of Daryl’s mind...hope you enjoyed it.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Please, if you have a moment drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts, I’d love to read it and talk to all of you, it keeps me inspired and going!

As always, English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

If you want to be tagged (or removed from the tags) let me know!

@momc95​​  @jodiereedus22​​ @osweetdevilo​​ @sapphire1727​​ @coffeebooksandfandom​​ @crustyrose​​ @checkintoreality​​ @daddys-little-princess67 @sesshomaru-lover​​ @crossbowking​​ @coltcas​​ @feartheendlesssummer​​ @izumi37​​ @gruffle1​​ @cutiepiemimi13​​ @drina365​​ @kuolematkorjaavat @daeshaunex2 @twdeadlysins​​ @stressed-lasagna​​ @teenyforestfairy​​ @yenne-yen-illustrations​​ @mychemicalimagines​​ @nikkipea​​ @crazycatladyalustriel @miniprz @wolfkg @paybackbarnes @haleypearce @nikki082489 @dotslabyrinth @mtngirlforever @superflannel @blckbuttler @deanervs   @linktheloveabledork @sourwolf-sterek32 @iminlokisarmysofi @traveleraroundsworld @deliciousassafrasssandwich @angelontheinside @friendly-black-cat @firehoopinmama @d0ntfitin @ivars-snowflake @mblaqgi @lxdyred @a-dlv @elysijin @gabriels-pornstashe @marie-is-in-the-dark @lonewolf471 @hedakylo @wnygirl2012 @j-a-val @gabidarkage

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #twd fic #the walking dead fic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon & reader #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl/reader #daryl & reader #daryl fanfiction

[funkymbtifiction]

The Walking Dead: Glenn Rhee [INFJ]

UNOFFICIAL TYPING BY: anonymous

Introverted Intuition (Ni): Glenn is a sentimental at heart, who likes to keep objects that symbolize his values and the people in his life that he loves. When Hershel gives him a pocket watch, he keeps it with him all the time afterwards. At first, he doesn’t totally understand what it means, but when he asks for Hershel’s blessing to marry Maggie, he tells him that it is a symbol of the fact that their time alive could suddenly end at any moment because they are living in the zombie apocalypse, so their future is uncertain. When he finds out that Maggie is pregnant with their first child, Glenn feels afraid at first because he knows that Lori died giving birth, and his wife was the one to deliver the baby for her. However, he overcomes his fears when they get separated again in season four, realizing they can’t just be afraid to be alive, and comes to see having a child as a wonderful opportunity to build a family with Maggie. Although he is not a very religious person, or one who has ever claimed to believe in god at all, Glenn has been seen praying to god in on some occasions of great desperation and fear, and he tells Maggie that he’ll “find her” from beyond the grave, so he does seem to feel some sort of faith in a higher power and believe that there is life beyond death, even if he’s not totally certain of what that exactly entails. This last part of his Ni-dom function works in tandem with his Fe-aux function, but Glenn often intuitively sees things in other people that they don’t see in themselves. For instance, he sees that Maggie has a lot more strength to survive on her own than she initially believes herself to be capable of, and he helps her come to realize this when they fall in love. He takes a high-risk chance on helping Tara because he needs her help to find Maggie, and some instinct deep inside him tells him that she is a good person worth helping. Surprisingly, Glenn is right, and the two become best friends.

Extroverted Feeling (Fe): Glenn is by far one of the most remarkably caring, ethical, loving, and selfless members of the main cast. However, in spite of his good nature, his strength to do the right thing, fight back adversity, and survive the apocalypse do not really come from any sort of self-reliant internal strength, an internalized set of personal values, or a ‘gut’ feeling of the moment based ethical decision-making process, like an Fi-type. No, Glenn’s good nature and strength are based around the feelings of other people. He doesn’t learn to fight back adversity, and stick up for himself until he finds the strength to do so through true love with Maggie by starting a relationship and family with her. Before that, he was essentially the main group’s errand boy and “walker bait,” but Maggie’s love made him realize that lhis life was actually worth fighting for again. He spares the lives of most people, even if they are acting like jerks, like Nicholas, because he knows that in another life that they were good people, who would have done the same thing for him. He knows that everyone is just trying to survive in the apocalypse, and that the people who act like cowards in this world, probably weren’t that way before the world went to shit. Even though it greatly angers and saddens him, he is willing to forgive the cowardice of the Alexandrian people that he takes on supply runs with him when they leave other people in their group behind when they are hurt or stuck in compromising situations that will slow the rest of the group down because he wants to believe that humanity can change for the better. Glenn finally kills living people for the first time in the series in season six when he absolutely has to do so in the Savior’s camp for the sake of defending his group, and he is seriously uncomfortable about having to do it because he cries the whole time. Although he is willing to forgive the people who hurt him, he refuses to forgive the people who hurt Maggie, and/or anyone else in his group, who he is close to. He refused to forgive Merle, not because he hurt him and took him to the Governor, but because he also took Maggie to the Governor, “a man, who humiliated her and terrorized her,” and Glenn “cares more about her than he does himself.” He even goes through a reckless period of wanting to get revenge on the Governor for terrorizing and humiliating Maggie in S3 afterwards. Glenn also has an amazing ability to see, predict, and bring out all of the potential for good things hidden underneath other people’s fears, insecurities, and temptations to make the wrong choices, like with Rick, Daryl, Maggie, and Tara. This is his primary Ni-Fe functions working together in tandem.

Introverted Thinking (Ti) In Glenn’s debut episode of the series in S1, he shows Rick and the rest of his group in Atlanta a map that he has created, which show all of the exits and tunnels under the sewers of the city that are (mostly) clear of zombies. He has created a system that can help them all escape through the sewer system. He quickly figured out how to hot-wire a car, and siphon gas from others when he needed it. At this point in the series, he is not very adept at fighting off walkers, or at sticking up for himself, but he seems to have survived as long as he has with his fairly strong ability to use internal logic. Still, Glenn’s Ti-function is in the weaker half of his stack of cognitive functions as an INFJ, so that means that it also sometimes comes out unhealthily at moments of self-hatred and self-doubt. He analyzes the things that he should have said and done in a situation with other people involved beforehand, but didn’t do at the time because he was too afraid, or not fast enough, and blames himself. In season two, Glenn blames himself for freezing up in a shootout with two outsiders, and not doing anything to help Rick, Daryl, and Hershel fight them back in the bar, even though he knew they were also armed at the time. Although it is never directly stated or shown outright in the series, there is strong evidence that Glenn unfairly blames himself for not being able to save Noah from those walkers that devoured him right in front of him in that revolving door, given the fact that he really did try his best to reach out to him and save his life before it was too late, and looking at just how upset he was over the whole ordeal afterwards.

Extroverted Sensing (Se): Extroverted sensing (Se) is the weakest of Glenn’s main cognitive functions as an INFJ, but it can be seen in his character in several moments throughout the series. Sure, Glenn never became the grizzled, ruthless, and dangerously threatening zombie apocalypse adversity killing-machine warriors that Daryl and particularly Rick became in the series, but he still adapted the necessary physical aggression and strength to fight back and survive adversity in the apocalypse pretty impressively. A big part of that is thanks to his Se-inferior function. He gave Merle a bloody nose when he was tied down to a chair, and getting beaten up by him. He successfully fought off a walker, while he was duct-taped and tied down to a chair in season three when he and Maggie got kidnapped by Merle and taken to the Governor by him. He was the main group’s primary supply runner throughout most of the series because he was well-known to be “quick on his feet,” and being really good at getting out of tough compromising life-or-death situations. He punched Abraham, a big, beefy, and strong former military seargeant, in the face, and actually almost beat him before they got pulled apart. Still, like I said before, Glenn’s Se function is the weakest of his four main cognitive functions as an INFJ, which means that it has often come out in moments throughout the series when he is unhealthily stuck in an Fe-Se loop. For instance, in S3, he goes through a reckless phase, after he and Maggie get kidnapped by the Governor, and their relationship starts to show some strain when Glenn finds out that Maggie took off her shirt because the Governor threatened for her to do it, or he would cut off Glenn’s hand. After this point in the series, Glenn goes through a bit of a reckless, vengeful, and blindly self-destructive Fe-Se loop phase. He tries to talk Michonne into teaming up with him to go and kill the Governor to get back at him for humiliating and terrorizing Maggie by sexually assaulting her. He gets frustrated when Hershel advises Rick and the rest of the group to keep Glenn away from the Governor and Woodbury for the time being because he is afraid that he is going to get himself and everyone around him killed with his blindly reckless anger and lust for vengeance. When the group listens to Hershel, and leave Glenn behind because they are afraid  that he could be a danger to himself and those in his group, he aggressively bludgeons a walker to death in his frustration. After the group convinces Glenn that they can’t just kill the Governor outright, he takes out his remaining frustration one last time against Merle albeit too aggressively when he tries to leave the prison to go and kill the Governor without the others’ permission, and then he starts to let go of his anger, makes up with Maggie, and come out of his Fe-Se loop.

#m: infj #c: infj #The Walking Dead #mbti #infj #glenn rhee #submission #character typing

[natthewriter]

similarities

#taz #taako #angus #lup #kravitztaako #barrylup #blup ango au #this is just a bunch of himym quotes and im sorry abt that but also im not sorry at all

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 10)

The response to this story has been overwhelming, thank you all for reading!

If you’re new around here and you love Boondock Saints (who doesn't love 1999 Reedus though? o.O ), then feel free to check out my other fics! :D

----------------------------

When Daryl woke the next morning, he had a fleeting moment of peace. That tiny little moment where your brain still hasn't fully woke and you feel peaceful, blissfully unaware of all the shit in the outside world. But as usual, it didn't last long, and when his brain caught up with his body, he remembered every painful detail of the day before. From Merles bad trip and concussing the girl, to her thinking she was fucking gay. He groaned to himself, rolling over onto his stomach and pulling the blanket over his head. He didn't want to face the day, he never wanted to face her ever again. He considered jumping out the window and letting the biters get him. That would be fucking better than having to talk to her now she thought he liked fucking dick. Now she was off sleeping in his brother's bed. The jealousy hit him hard, feeling like he had been struck by lightning. She didn't like Merle that way, at least he thought she didn't. Merle had been trying to get her in bed for as long as they fucking knew her and she had turned him down every time. But still, the thought of her sleeping next to Merle made his blood run cold and it was all his own damn fault.

“Daryl, get the fuck up!” Merle called from the other side of the bedroom door. Daryl inhaled a deep breath, not wanting to deal with any of this bullshit.

“Fuck off!” he growled, his voice muffled with his face in the pillow and the blanket over his head. He heard the door open anyway and he wasn't surprised.

“Now come on baby brother, tell me what’s got ya hidin’ out in here,” Merle smirked. Daryl could hear that smirk in his voice, the one that told him he knew exactly why he was hiding. He was glad he was fucking hiding as his cheeks turned red, the idea that the girl had fucking told his brother what happened was embarrassing.

“Fuck off,” he repeated harshly, groaning when Merle yanked the covers off him. He made no effort to move, to turn and look at him. He didn't want to catch that shit-eating grin he knew was plastered all over his stupid fucking face.

“Nothin’ to do with a certain pretty little thing thinkin’ you're a homosexual then?” he asked, laughter lacing his words as Daryl growled. He turned over, grabbing the pillow next to him and he flung it at Merle. Merle burst out laughing, seeming to find great amusement in the situation as Daryl glared at him from where he was lay.

“Hey! I know ya ain't gay alright! I’ve seen ya with plenty of women. But fuck, why the shit didn't ya tell her ya weren't?” Merle snorted, looking at his brother like he was stupid. Daryl furrowed his brow, wondering what he was on about until it clicked in his mind. He had been stunned by her words and then too busy reliving old wounds. He had gawped at her like a fucking fish and not said a word, not corrected her on anything.

“Fuck,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands as his brother continued to laugh at him.

“Don't worry about it baby brother. Good ol’ Merle took care of it,” Merle smirked widely at him. Daryl sat up then looking at him warily.

“Ya...took care of it how?” he asked hesitantly. Merle's version of taking care of things rarely resulted in helping. It usually caused more fucking problems.

“I put her straight. That ya not gay, never have been. Told her ya’ve been wantin’ to get in her pants since ya first fuckin’ saw her!” he cackled, making Daryl's eyes widen so much they almost fell out of their fucking sockets.

“Ya did what?!” he yelled, completely mortified. Nah, fuck this shit. I wonder if I could smother myself…

“I’m yankin' ya chain! Fuck!” Merle laughed heartily as he stepped closer to him. Daryl relaxed but only a little as he looked up at him.

“I didn't tell her that, even though it's true. But I did tell her ya like women so ya don't need to worry about that shit no more,” he grinned, like he was so proud of himself for doing something decent for once.

“Thanks,” Daryl muttered, looking down for a minute as his head tried to calm down from the mind fuck the morning had turned into.

“I’m gonna give ya a bit of brotherly advice now, so ya best listen,” Merle started, looking deadly serious. Daryl just blinked at him, looking almost like a young boy as he waited for what his brother wanted to say.

“I know ya like her. I see the way ya look at her, hell, how ya’ve always looked at her. I know ya ain’t like me, ya different so I know it’s not the same as it is for me,” he continued, Daryl squinted at him calling him different but Merle just shook his head.

“Hell, it ain't a bad thing Daryl. I’m glad ya ain't like me. It’s a good thing. All I’m sayin’ is, I know ya deal with shit differently. Like last night, freakin’ out over a damn kiss to the cheek. Ya don't like to be touched, I get it, and I know ya ain't got much game brother, but shit, I thought ya had more than that,” he snorted. Daryl heaved a sigh, wondering what the fuck the advice would be, if there even was any. Merle sensed his impatience and tutted at him.

“If ya like her, ya don't have to do anythin’ ya don't’ wanna, but ya should at least just let shit happen. If she tries to kiss ya cheek, fuckin’ let her. If she wants to share a bed, don't fight it. Fuck, if she wants to suck ya damn dick, let her do it. Stop fightin’ shit Daryl. Ya look at her different to the other girls ya’ve fucked, I can see it. I ain't blind and I ain't damn stupid either. Ya know how I feel about women, and I don't think me and relationships would ever fuckin’ mix. But like I said, I know ya different. She’s a good girl brother, she's a little spitfire when she wants to be. She can hold her own, but she’s still good inside. I think she's good for ya,” he finished, his face more serious than Daryl had ever seen him.

It felt so awkward, neither of them able to look at each other for a moment. These moments with Merle were rare. These moments when he really was the big brother he needed, when he came through like this. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had a moment like this with him, but now it was here, it was awkward as shit. He didn't really know what to say. He felt all sorts of shit. He was embarrassed his brother had noticed he liked her, even before the world went to shit. He was shocked that Merle hadn't taken the piss out of him for it, ever, and he was shocked that Merle actually seemed to be somewhat giving his blessing, if Daryl wanted to make this anything. Merle had said she was good for him, complimented her. Daryl was well aware of how his brother usually viewed women. That they were good for nothing but a good fuck and to cook and clean. Yet Cherlene seemed to have effected Merle too.

“Ain’t matter anyway. Like she’d be interested in a Dixon,” Daryl scoffed bitterly, realising this whole pep talk was worth shit when it came down to it. No matter how much he liked her, it would never happen. He wasn't about to fool himself and act like it would. Optimism got him nowhere in life. Merle heaved a sigh and shook his head as he took a step back.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Ya won't fuckin’ know if ya keep runnin’ from it Daryl,” he muttered, wishing he could shake some sense into him. But Merle could see Daryl shutting down, he didn't blame him. This whole thing had been a little more intense and touchy-feely than he had meant and now things were weird.

“Anyway, get your ass downstairs. The girls up and we’re both waitin’ to get the truck, then we can try for the highway again,” with that, Merle was gone. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief at the peace of being on his own. But now he had to go downstairs and face her. Be fucking stuck in the truck with her for hours on end after the ordeal that was the night before. He actually hoped Merle would sit with them this time. He was an ass but he was a fucking ice breaker and a distraction. If Merle was winding her up, she wouldn't be focused on him and how pathetic and awkward he was.

He tugged on his boots before reluctantly leaving the room, he really didn't want to but he couldn't hide out here forever either. When he got downstairs, Merle was in the kitchen packing what little was there into a bag he found. It wasn't much but they would need every little thing they could find. Daryl walked into the living room and Charlene was eating graham crackers out of a box. He tensed, stood there as their eyes locked for a moment. He noticed her cheeks flush as she glanced back down to the box. Great, now shits awkward.

“You want some?” she asked, her voice weirdly higher than usual and he could tell by how she was averting her eyes she looked somewhat nervous. He tried to hide his frown as he nodded, his stomach growled as he sat on the couch with her, leaving a good distance between them.

It was silent for a moment, the only noises were Merle rummaging in the kitchen and muttering to himself and their crunching of the crackers, which seemed unusually loud to his ears.

“Look, I'm sorry about last night. Assuming you were gay. I just...You know me well enough by now, when I get nervous I put my foot in my mouth and make an ass out of myself,” she rambled, finally looking at him again with her bright green eyes. He was confused why she was apologising, it was all his fault, but he rolled with it anyway.

“It’s fine, wouldn't have thought that if I didn't freak out like a fuckin’ idiot,” he sighed, chewing his thumb anxiously as he looked down.

“I get it. Merle told me...you don't like to be touched. I know I can be a bit much sometimes. Always around you and stuff. I’ve just always been a little touchy-feely. So I'm sorry, for making you uncomfortable like that,” she muttered softly, toying with a cracker in her hand.

Daryl frowned, he didn't like that his brother had disclosed that bit of information with her. Anyone that knew him knew he wasn't one to be touched. It was fine if he initiated it, but he was always wary of other people touching him, ever since his childhood where the only contact he had with people involved being hurt in some way.

“Ya ain't much...I don't mind it. Just caught me off guard I guess,” he shrugged, not wanting her to pull away completely because of what his brother had said, about what she must think of him now. A fuckin’ freak.

“What if...the next time I do something that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. And I’ll do the same with you. We don't need to freak out or ramble nervous shit that embarrasses each other,” she snorted wryly, giving him a little smile. He chanced a glance at her, a tug of a smile on his own lips.

“Sounds good to me,” he said with a nod, still chewing his thumb. He didn’t know how well it would work. When he freaked out the night before, his brain had just malfunctioned completely. He didn't have time to rationalise anything and suddenly things had gone from bad to worse. He hoped that the air was a little clearer now. That she would be a little more careful so she didn't spook him but not pull away from him altogether.

She took out another cracker and one for him, handing it out to him. It was like she was giving some kind of peace offering to him and he almost snorted. He gave her a half-smile, taking it and relishing the moment when their fingers touched briefly. He masked it well though, she didn't need to know that despite his deep-rooted issues about being touched, he craved it more than anything in the fucking world, as fucked as his brain was. Wanting something that his body would shy from. He munched his cracker, feeling like the air was a little lighter. She didn't hate him, she hadn’t embarrassed him. She had said sorry and come up with a plan that would hopefully make them avoid any other moments like the night before. Merle was right, she was good for him.

“Alright kids, lets head out. Still don't know if that herd will come back this way,” Merle said as he walked in the room. Charlene stood, box of crackers still in her hands as she nibbled them. Merle reached over and took one, making her growl playfully and smack him around the head.

“That there’s abuse girlie,” Merle huffed as he rubbed his head, even though the smack didn't hurt in the least. Daryl watched on amused as his brother squinted at her. Shocked he hadn't throttled her or said anything offensive. It was weird. Apparently, things were better between them. He already knew Merle liked her which was weird enough because Merle never liked anyone. Hopefully, things would be a little easier with the three of them from now on.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon writing #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Merle Dixon

[foreverlovingdaryldixon]

24, 18, 16, 5. You dont have to do them all. Caryl prompts. From the thing.

24.  person A flirting withother people to make person B jealous.

18.  “I can help you to make her/him jealous”

Two in one! Set in the prison. Hopefully not too similar to thelast.

They had been flitting around the subject for toolong and quite frankly Carol was tired of it, she was almost sure he wanted ittoo, almost. She had to be certain though, she wasn’t open to the possibilityof rejection. Luckily for her she wasn’t the only one who had noticed their littledance.

“I can help ya make him jealous,” a voice came frombehind her making her jump and spin around.

Her shocked expression was wiped away with insteadone of boredom as she saw Merle leant against the entrance of her cell, adevilish grin on his face.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking aboutMerle,” she said casually bending over to untie her boots and slip them off.

“Come on don’t play coy with me woman,” he saidtaking a stride into her cell, “you and I both know ya got the hots forDarylina.”

Carol turned to face him a frown set deep on herface as she tried to cover up what they both knew to be true, “I do not havethe ‘hots’ for your brother.”

“Sugar, lie through your teeth all ya want but ya’reonly makin’ it harder on yaself,” Merle quipped, knowing he was quicklybreaking her.

She glared up as he now stood tall in front of her,debating whether to fight him on this or not.

“What did you mean by make him jealous?” shequestioned through gritted teeth, she couldn’t believe she was doing this.

A long grin spread across Merle’s face knowing he’dwon, “atta girl, knew ya’d come round. All pretty little Dixon boy needs ta seeif ya gettin’ all a lil bit too friendly with big brother Merle over here, drivethe kid crazy.”

Carol wasn’t fond of the idea, Merle would reap inthe benefits, loving the attention. However it would confirm or deny whether hewas feeling the same things she was. It seemed easy enough but she was worriedabout the lasting damage it might have on their current friendship.

“Why can’t you just flirt with me? Second nature toyou by now surely,” Carol asked, leaning back against her dresser.

“Exactly why it can’t be me babycakes, I flirt withevery woman, Daryl see’s me flirting with ya he’ll be pissed sure but it ain’tgonna get ya the kinda reaction ya want, trust ol’ Merle, follow my advice, boy’llbe eatin’ out the palm of ya hand in no time.”

“I don’t want him to be my bitch Merle,” Carol saidrolling her eyes.

“But we’re doin’ this right?” he asked a shiteating grin on his smug face.

She sighed running a hand through her hair, “yes I’lltry it, starting tomorrow, but do not take this too far, I won’t hesitate toslit your throat while you sleep.”

“Damn, I like ‘em feisty,” he winked before goingto leave her cell, “see ya on the playin’ field baby.”

Fuck. What had she got herself into?

***

The next morning she woke early as she usually did,going downstairs to start on breakfast for everyone. It didn’t bother herhaving to be up so early, she always was an early riser, however so were theDixon brothers.

“Smells good sugar,” Merle’s voice came from besideher making her jump again.

“Jesus, stop doing that,” she hissed glancingaround the room seeing no one else about.

“Ya gotta be more on guard,” he said more seriouslythan she was used to for Merle, “ma brother’s gonna be here in a minute so yabest get ya flirtin’ skills up to scratch.”

She turned her body around to face his putting onsoft seductive eyes as she heard the door open from behind her.

“That him?” she asked quietly, Merle nodded hishead, an easy grin coming across his face.

“Merle Dixon!” she said in a girlish voice, loudenough so she was sure Daryl would hear, “you are a shameless tease you knowthat?”

As she spoke her hands came up the slide up thelength of his torso, stopping just before she got to his shoulders.

“Offer’s always open sugar,” he drawled, playingalong as his good hand went to trail down her jaw.

She could feel Daryl’s eyes burning in the back ofher head as stood across the other side of the room.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she purred, smirking atMerle as he winked at her, pulling away and leaving just Carol and Daryl in theroom.

As soon as the door shut behind him she turned backto her work, Daryl now visible in her peripheral.

“Daryl,” she played surprised as she looked at himstalking towards her, “between you and your brother you’re going to give me aheart attack sneaking up on me like that.”

“Sounds like ma brother’s gonna give ya a whole lotmore,” he snapped as Carol passed him a bowl of food.

Carol resisted smiling at his reaction, pleasedthat it was working.

She looked up at him with big innocent eyes, “whatdo you mean?”

“Nothin’,” he grunted walking back out the door hecame.

She saw Merle again later that day and he decidedto lead them to the courtyard where he knew Daryl was working on his bike.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll go out first, sit downstretch my legs a lil, ya come out a few minutes later, come straight over tame okay? Darylina is gonna blow his lid when he sees ya comin’ over ta me an’not him.”

Carol nodded, still uncomfortable with the situationbut god if Daryl didn’t need a kick up the ass, she wanted a reaction, Merlewould pull that from him.

She did as he said, waiting a few minutes before goingout to join him, she saw Daryl not ten foot away from them, avoiding his gazeas she sat on the table next to Merle.

They were far enough away that if they murmured hewouldn’t hear and the murmuring would only rile him up more.

“Alright mouse, I want ya ta laugh in a moment andput ya hand on ma thigh, however high ya want ta go sweetcheeks,” Merlemurmured as Carol wet her lips, knowing that Daryl could see.

She nodded a grin appearing on her face as she letout a light-hearted laugh, her hand falling to his upper thigh, her fingernailstracing obvious enough circles that it caught the hunters attention.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, do you?” sheteased loud enough for Daryl to hear with a devilish look in her eye, Merleknew it was all for show but damn if he wasn’t enjoying it.

“Lean into me and pretend ta whisper in ma ear,”Merle drawled quietly as she followed suit and did so.

“You think it’s working?” she whispered once shewas close enough.

“Sugar ya are drivin’ that boy damn insane,” hemurmured back, as Carol pushed lightly against his chest, pretending to laughagain.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked as she stood fromthe bench, biting on the side of her lip seductively.

“Oh ya’ll be seein’ me,” he answered, being unableto resist knowing this might just push his dumbass of a brother over the edgeas he leant forward to slap her ass.

She let out a yelp wanted to rip his balls off butinstead glanced back and shook her head with a smirk, “I’ll get you back forthat Dixon.”

Merle chuckled to himself knowing that was a threatshe intended to keep.

His attention was adverted when he heard theclatter of tools hitting the toolbox with force, as Daryl flung them away,storming past Merle following after Carol. Boy made it far too easy Merlethought with a laugh.

“Carol!” she jumped hearing her name shouted so aggressively.She watched as Daryl approached her with speed, stopping just short of herface.

“Daryl,” she greeted somewhat breathless at hisproximity.

“The hell ya playin’ at huh?” he yelled.

“What do you mean what am I playing at?” she asked,knowing that the slap on the ass had been too much for him.

“I mean gettin’ all close an’ friendly with mabrother,” he growled with fire in his eyes.

“Is there a problem with that?” she asked wantingnothing more than to kiss the shit out of him.

“Yeah, he ain’t no good for ya, I know Merle, he’sgonna hurt ya,” he raged, no sign of losing fuel yet.

“Well maybe I’m a big girl and I can make my owndecisions,” she quipped, she was willing to push this as far as she needed togo, no point turning back now.

“Jesus,” he scoffed, “thought ya were smarter than this,nothin’ good can come from this ya know that?”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say Daryl Dixonwas jealous,” she pushed on.

This tripped him up causing him to snort, “I-I ain’tjealous, don’t give a shit what ya do.”

“Don’t lie to me Daryl,” she warned, knowing he wasgetting into dangerous territory of where his anger fuelled words could startto hurt her, “don’t say something stupid that you can’t take back.”

This seemed to break his resolve a little as he letout a frustrated sigh, “course I give a shit what ya do, I care about ya Caroland I don’t wanna see ya hurt by my prick of a brother, ya deserve more thanthat, someone that’ll treat ya better.”

“And is that person you?” she asked quietly.

He bit down hard on his lip, he was too deep inthis now not to tell her, “yeah, I know ya ain’t interested but I would treatya so much better than Merle would, his heart’s in the right place but hethinks with his dick, that’s the problem.”

Carol couldn’t help the grin setting across herface.

“What’re ya smilin’ for?” he grumbled his eyes downcasting again.

“I’m smiling cause it took for me to flirt withyour brother of all people just to get you to admit how you really feel.”

Daryl frowned confusion crossing his face, “whaddyamean?”

“I mean I’ve been flirting with Merle to get yourattention, see if you actually felt anything for me or not…clearly it worked inmy favour. I don’t like Merle, the hell would I ever like Merle when I haveyou.”

“Ya don’t…” Daryl trailed off as he processed yourwords, “so ya like…me?”

She nodded glad now for their close proximity asshe wrapped her hands around his neck, “it’s always been you Daryl, I was justnever sure we were on the same page, I couldn’t risk putting myself out thereand losing our friendship, you have no idea how much you mean to me.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to grin as he pressedhis forehead against hers, “ya have no idea how much ya mean to me. I was just scared, ya know? Ain’tnever felt like this ‘fore, didn’t wanna lose ya.”

“Daryl you could never lose me,” Carol whisperedbefore closing the distance between them, her lips moulding against his as hemet her with just as much passion. Eventually they came up for air, Daryl keepinghis forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“So we really trying this?” she asked, her eyesstill shut.

“Yeah, we really are,” he responded making her eyesopen to gaze into his.

“I do love a happy endin’,” a voice bellowed fromacross the room making them jump apart.

The fire from before came back into Daryl’s eyes ashe glared at his brother, “yeah well now I got a bone to pick with ya, yafuckin’ prick,” he growled stalking towards his brother.

“Now now now Darylina, ya should be thankin’ me, I couldhave had that piece’ve pussy all ta maself but I let ya have her,” Merlereasoned backing away towards the door.

“As if!” Carol yelled across at him in disgust.

“Ya want a more experienced Dixon ya know where tafind me sugar,” Merle shouted back before turning on his heel to run from hisbrother who was now pursuing after him.

“I’m gonna kick your ass ya dick,” Daryl shouted ashe ran out the door after him.

Carol hugged her arms around herself and chuckledlightly, despite his vulgar mouth she owed Merle Dixon, especially after Darylwas done with him.

#caryl #caryl prompt #jealous #Merle Dixon #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #Melissa McBride #Norman Reedus #TWD #The Walking Dead #caryl fan fic

[zacknano17]

Day 20: words 38,019 - 40,047

In which, yet another beloved recurring character shows up and steals the show.

“I don't know,” Salvatore says.  “She kept secrets from me too, I'm afraid.  But if I had to guess...well, she and Alfonso had a home on the other side of town.  She's been living here, as near as I can tell, but she never sold the old house.  I always assumed it was a sentimental thing.”

“Great. So she teleported across town, huh?” Merle mutters.

“Show us the way,” Magnus demands.

“I can get there faster if you give me the address,” Kravitz says.

Salvatore shook his head.  “I would take you two to save your friend, but I can't knowingly invite an emissary of the God of Death to my lady's side,” he says.

“Listen. I wouldn't worry so much.  We've cheated soooo many souls back from this guy already, I'm sure it'd be no problem to do it again,” Magnus replies.

“You people make my job extremely difficult,” Kravitz says.  He sounds irate.  His accent is shifting again.

“Well, I mean, we did,” Merle points out.

“All right, you listen and you listen good,” Kravitz continues, focusing on the orc now.  “I have her name, and if you think I won't find her on my own, then you don't know much about the Raven Queen, do you?  Either you take us to her now and try and convince me why I ought to let her soul remain here, or I will find her myself and Reap her myself.”

Salvatore falls silent for a moment, and the book still in Kravitz' hand is snapped open again.  He drags his finger down the page, as if searching for something.

There is a mighty sigh, and Salvatore seems to make up his mind about something.  He turns toward Magnus, deliberately ignoring Kravitz' threats.  “Fine.  I will lead you to her house,” he says, resigned.  “Follow me.  I will show you the way.”

Kravitz' finger stops midway down the page and then quite suddenly jerks his finger to the side, raising a small cloud of golden dust.  He snaps the book closed and plucks a feather from his cloak.  As soon as the gold glitter on his finger touches the black feather, it begins to float, point down, about an inch above his palm.  The gold slowly overtakes it, until it is completely gold.

The book, apparently no longer needed, vanishes from his hand, and he adjust the feather so that is hovering horizontally over his hand. The point spins like a compass and settles on a direction.

He gives a pointed look at Salvatore.  “I will know if you're trying to trick us,” he says.

“I don't know if she is at the house,” Salvatore reminds him.  “I respect what you are trying to do.  But I can't know for certain where she is.  I will take you there, but if she isn't there, you cannot find fault with me.”

“Also, Krav, my man, you're gonna freak a lot of folks out if you walk down Main Street in that get up,” Magnus points out.

“...that is a fair point,” Kravitz admits.  He drops the scythe, and, as soon as he lets go of it, it dissolves into thin air.  Then his skeletal features sort of melt away and in their place appears a handsome face with an elaborate three piece suit, all done in black and deep purple and gold.  His hair is adorned with gold and purple beads and trinkets, and his fingers are heavy with rings.

The feather remains suspended over his hand, pointing insistently to the west.

“Shall we?” he asks.

Salvatore seems unfazed, but he does blink a few times at Kravitz before nodding.  “Please follow me.”

He leads them up out of the basement and takes a moment to turn the store sign to 'Closed' before he closes and locks the door behind them.  Alfonso, still quiet and apathetic, comes with them.  The creepy as fuck fake Taako does not.  It's a long walk, and the sun is slowly setting over the horizon in front of them.  The feather continues to point vaguely in the direction they are walking.

“You know,” Merle comments, breaking the silence that has overtaken the five of them, “did we even ask what she's got Taako for?  I don't quite get why she took him in the first place.”

“Hey, yeah.  That's a good point,” Magnus realizes.

“This I cannot help you with,” Salvatore admits.  “She took a shine to him as soon as she saw him, though I suspected at the time it was because he bears a superficial resemblance to Alfonso.”

Magnus looks at the elf accompanying them.  Now that Taako has gone back to his original hair color, he sees it a little.  Alfonso doesn't have that same ethereal beauty as Taako does, and his hair is cut quite a bit shorter.  His clothing is more...sensible, definitely less flashy.  But they are roughly the same height and have similar builds.

“Salvatore...you said that she tried to make Alfonso whole again with necromancy, right?” Magnus asks, with a sudden feeling of dread heavy in his mind.  “And that it didn't work?”

“That is correct, but I don't know what it is that she tried to do.”

“Hm.” Kravitz is looking Alfonso over again, not appearing to like what he sees.  “I assume it's the same sort of thing that went down in the Miller Lab.  I deal with this sort of situation a whole lot more often than you'd think.  People are always trying to fish people's souls out of the Astral Sea, as though it's that simple.”

“But instead of putting his soul into a robot, like Lucas did, she was going to put it into this dude she made,” Magnus suggests.  “But that didn't work.”

“Of course it didn't work.  This -- this isn't a vessel.  She used the Relic to make a person, and that's what it made,” Kravitz explains. “He isn't empty.  A body without a soul is a doll, completely catatonic.  This man walks around and speaks.  He doesn't have a whole soul, because she didn't try to make one of those.  But he isn't empty.  You can't put a soul into a body without taking the old soul out first, and that really isn't as easy as it sounds.”

Magnus looks over at Alfonso.  His expression is still the same and he is staring straight ahead as he walks, as if they aren't just talking about him right over here.  He doesn't seem to have any particular interest in the conversation, for the most part.  But he glances over at Magnus.

“I'm a person,” he says.  “I'm not empty.”

“Seems that way,” Magnus agrees.

“That still don't explain what she needs Taako for,” Merle points out. “If she can't rip his soul out to make room for a new one, then how is Taako gonna help with that?  Does Taako know how to rip people's souls out?”

“I doubt it.  That's a rather high level spell,” Kravitz replies. “Difficult to perform, even for the most skilled necromancer.  And, as far as I know, Taako's specialization is transmutation, not necromancy.”

“That's true,” Magnus muses.  “Is she a necromancer?  I guess I just assumed she was an illusionist.”

“She is an illusionist,” Salvatore clarifies.  “She didn't study any necromancy until she got her hands on that awful grimoire, and that was simply because she didn't know how else to get Alfonso's soul back.”

“And it's all just written down in a book?” Merle asks.  “Easy as that?”

“It isn't easy,” Kravitz insists.  “But it is possible. Usually at great cost, literally and metaphorically.  I assume our friend here had an advantage on that front, thanks to the fact that she can use the Relic to just create all her spell components.”

“Yes, that's it,” Salvatore confirms.  “The spell components were either unbelievably rare or difficult to obtain, or ridiculously expensive.  Bypassing the components would take a great deal of necromantic proficiency, of which she does not have.”

“Great, so she's got a Grand Relic and access to a bunch of necromantic spells that she shouldn't be able to do,” Magnus sighs. “Sounds like we're going to have a lot of fun with this one, huh, Merle?”

“Oh, I'm so excited I can barely stand it,” Merle deadpans.

They walk in silence for a few more minutes.  Salvatore turns the party down a few side streets, and Magnus watches as the houses they pass fall further and further into disrepair.

“Is it possible,” he says thoughtfully, “that she could learn the ability to pull someone's soul out of their body from that book?  You said it was difficult, but possible, right?”

Kravitz, now that he has a face, looks distinctly uncomfortable at the possibility.

“It would depend on the book, but...it is conceivable, yes.”

“So what if she made Alfonso here and, when she figured out why he wasn't her Alfonso, she figured it was because she had done something wrong instead of because he already had a soul or whatever he's got? Then she thinks the body is wrong, so she...took Taako instead?”

“She wouldn't do that,” Salvatore insists.

“Okay, but she did make a fake Taako, and also kidnapped Taako, apparently,” Magnus points out.  “She's done a lot of shitty things that she wouldn't normally do, right?”

“...I suppose she has.”

“So would it really be that far out if she had kidnapped Taako in order to rip his soul out of his body and put a different one in?”

There is silence after this question.  No one wants to admit that Magnus might be right.  Not even Magnus.

“Boys, we should probably hurry,” he decides.

No one argues.

The grimoire bursts into flames, and Rebekah screams.

Taako's aim was true; nothing but the book has suffered damage.  Rebekah has fallen backwards, away from the flaming pages, and Taako's body seems unburnt.  She whirls around in shock, but before she can see the umbra staff that had turned to aim at the grimoire, something else catches her attention.

“Rebekah? Rebekah!”

A ripple of shock goes through Taako at the sound of his voice.  It's weak and scratchy, like he hasn't had anything to drink in a while, but it's still his voice.  He hadn't said that.  He hadn't said anything.

The ritual.  Rebekah had completed the ritual before Taako had managed to destroy the book.

Rebekah turns toward the table, and Taako is horrified to see his body twitching and moving.  “...Alfonso?  Alfonso, love, is that you?” she asks.

“What...what's happening?  I'm...chained to the table?” not-Taako says.

“Please, be calm.  I had to make sure the ritual worked before I let you free,” she replies, stroking his hair gently.  There are tears on her cheeks, but she's smiling.  “Are you all right?  How do you feel?”

Taako understands what is happening, finally.  She has taken his soul out of his body and used his body to house the soul of her dearly departed husband.  And he can't do a fucking thing about it, but to watch.  Just casting those mage hands has all but depleted his magical energy, and he couldn't be sure the staff would just fire on its own again.  It doesn't do that very often.

He is aware then, dimly, of another presence in the room.  It's not something he can see as much as he can feel.  It's odd -- he can't feel anything touching him, but it's a different sort of feeling.  And maybe it's because he's just a soul and, in a way, he is sort of dead (or undead?), he can sort of put a shape to the feeling.  It's like seeing, but it's not actual sight.

He is aware of a pair of skeletal hands just before they carefully wrap around him and lift him from his perch on the desk.  He senses the brush of red fabric from the sleeves of the mysterious intruder's robe.  He knows who this is.  He wants to cry.

Lup?  Lup, is that you?

It has to be Lup.  It has to! He has forgotten her for so long -- how could he forget Lup?  But she's here now!  She has saved him!

#tying the nano #MMM I LOVE THE TASTE OF EMOTIONAL DEVASTATION IN THE MORNING